by Sarah Morgan
“But I said the wrong thing. I hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings aren’t that easily hurt. And everyone says the wrong thing sometimes. It’s part of being human.”
Her feelings were easily hurt. Far too easily hurt. “I’m feeling weird right now. Ed’s gone and I’m never going to be able to ask him any of the things I want to know.”
“What do you want to know?”
Feeling the boat rock, Mack sat down on the locker. “I want to know why he didn’t tell me. Finding out that there’s no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny was bad enough, but this is so much worse, don’t you think?”
“I never believed in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.” He flicked her a glance. “Decisions aren’t always simple. Life isn’t always that easy to figure out.”
Well that was true.
Scott had a quiet way about him that made it easy. He didn’t tell her what she should be thinking or feeling, and he didn’t nag at her or make her feel stupid. “I want to know if Ed really loved me.”
“That’s an easy enough question to answer.”
“What do you mean?”
Scott tightened his hands on the rope. “Did he leave you? Did he walk out?”
“No. He had a heart attack.” And she couldn’t get it out of her head. Had he known he was going to die? Had he had pain? What was the last thing she’d said to him? She couldn’t even remember and she felt awful about that.
“He was by your side for sixteen years.” Scott placed the rope on her lap and dropped to his haunches next to her. “I’d say the signs are that he loved you a hell of a lot.”
She gripped the rope. “I wish I’d known I wasn’t his, that’s all. I would have been okay about them telling me when I was young.”
“You don’t know that. No one knows for sure how they’d react if circumstances were different.”
“You’re on my mom’s side.”
“I don’t take sides.” He took her hand and placed it on the rope. “This is a mooring line. You’re going to learn to coil it ready for stowage. Are you right-handed or left?”
“Right.”
“So make the coils with your right hand, hold in your left.” He showed her and then handed the rope back to her. “Keep the coils the same length.”
She tried it, but her hands were cold. “The rope keeps kinking up—”
“Twist your hand out as you make the coil. That will stop it happening. That’s good—” he watched as she coiled the whole rope “—now finish it off and we’ll stow it in the locker.”
She did as he said and handed it over, wondering why coiling a rope could feel like an achievement. She gobbled up crumbs of approval like a starving bird. “So does this make me your crew?” She saw the corners of his mouth flicker into a smile and felt a sudden high. “Can I ask you something?”
“If I say no, will it stop you asking?”
“Probably not. And we can both agree that you’ve had an easy time of parenting me so far.”
“If it’s a parent you want, you should talk to your mom.”
How could she explain that she couldn’t talk to her mom right now? “I’d rather talk to you.”
“I don’t know anything about kids.”
“I’m not a kid. I’m a teenager. We’re much trickier. And don’t bother looking for advice on the internet.”
“I take it the advice isn’t good?”
“It says things like, ‘Try to maintain a channel of communication.’” She used her best TV anchor voice. “‘Try to avoid confrontational language and talking in absolutes. Encourage dialogue.’”
“Sounds complicated.”
“You have no idea.” She took a deep breath. “Did you love my mom?”
He went so still she wished she hadn’t asked.
It was like opening up a box and showing someone something awful.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Forget I asked that. Thanks for the chocolate and the rope lesson.” She took the steps back down to the cabin, grabbed his mug and washed it up.
She was relieved when he followed her down. At least he wasn’t ignoring her.
“Thanks for bringing me on the boat and giving me my first sailing lesson.” What if Scott had loved her mom? What if this was difficult for him too? “Scott—”
“We should get back.” He left the cabin in two long strides and she stood for a moment, wishing yet again that she’d kept her mouth shut.
She hoped she hadn’t ruined what was turning out to be the best day she’d had in a long time.
21
Lauren
Anxiety: a feeling of nervousness or worry
Lauren walked into the garden room where her mother was reading. “Have you seen Mack?”
Her mother glanced up from her book. “Not since last night. Why?”
“I can’t find her anywhere.”
“Have you tried her room?”
“Yes. She’s not there.” In normal circumstances she wouldn’t have worried, but circumstances hadn’t been normal in a long time.
“Maybe she has gone for a walk.”
“It’s the weekend. She doesn’t normally get out of bed until eleven, but I checked her room at eight and it was empty.” Where would her daughter be going at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning?
Nancy put her book down. “Call her. One of the advantages of today’s technology-addicted youth is that you can always contact them.”
“I tried that. Her phone is switched off.” And she was trying not to panic.
There was no reason for anxiety.
Mack was probably with a friend.
Except she didn’t have any friends.
The anxiety was louder now. More insistent.
Mack was unhappy. She didn’t have anyone to turn to. And Lauren hadn’t managed to persuade her to open up and talk. Her mind raced ahead.
What if she’d done something awful?
Nancy removed her glasses. “Could she have gone to see Jenna?”
Lauren frowned. “How?”
“The same way she gets everywhere. On her bike.”
“That’s a long cycle. It would take her hours.” Still, Lauren texted her sister. “Did she seem quieter than usual to you last night?”
“Not that I noticed. She never says much.”
She used to talk all the time.
Lauren’s phone pinged. “She’s not with Jenna. I’m going to see if her bike has gone.” She hurried outside, trying not to let herself overthink.
Mack’s bike wasn’t there.
So she’d gone for a bike ride. That was fine.
But why hadn’t she told anyone where she was going?
Lauren tried calling again but it went to voice mail.
“What can I do?” Nancy’s voice came from the doorway. “Do you want to go looking for her?”
“Where?” Lauren’s mind was blank. She had no idea where her daughter was.
She could have been knocked off her bike.
She could be lying dead in a ditch.
Why hadn’t she at least left a note saying where she was going?
This was all her fault. She’d known Mack was miserable, and had failed to reach her. She should have tried a different way. She should have tried a million different ways.
“I’m a bad mother.” If someone had warned her parenting was this hard she would have insisted on using ten condoms every time she had sex.
“Stop it,” Nancy said. “Stop beating yourself up. You’re the best mother any child could have.”
“My daughter left the house without telling me where she was going. I have no idea where she could be. What does that say about me?”
“It doesn’t say anything about you. It says she’s a teenager going through a tough time.”
<
br /> Lauren thought about all the things she and Jenna had done as children.
But they’d done them together.
That was different. Mack was alone. Grieving. Confused. Depressed?
“I’m going to look for her.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t sit around here doing nothing. Can I take your car?”
“Yes. But, Lauren—”
“Keep your phone on. If she comes home, call me.”
She tried to think about all the places Mack liked on the island. There was that little boutique close by. She liked the beach. But which beach?
She drove along the road that bordered the cycle trail, looking for signs of her daughter. It was still cold and the beaches were empty apart from a couple of people walking their dogs.
She slowed as she passed the entrance to one of the large houses.
Could Mack be on one of the private beaches?
The houses rented for exorbitant sums during the summer, but were often empty at this time of year.
She drove on, occasionally glancing at the beach when the road allowed.
Mild anxiety thickened into dread.
Should she call the police?
What would she say? My daughter got up unusually early. I think something is wrong.
They’d think she’d lost her mind. And then they’d want to know all the reasons she was scared for her daughter, and Lauren would have to relive the horror of the last few weeks.
Still, better that than find Mack’s body washed up on the beach.
She reasoned with herself as she drove. Mack wouldn’t have hurt herself. If she were that unhappy she would have said so.
Wouldn’t she?
Just how well did she know her daughter these days?
She wasn’t sure whether it was instinct or impulse that made her drive to the marina, but as she drove through the entrance the first thing she saw was Mack’s bike propped against the wall.
What would she be doing here? Flooded with panic, Lauren started to shake so badly she almost drove the car into that same wall. She pulled up and was out of the car in a flash.
The bike was there, but there was no sign of Mack.
Her imagination was already in overdrive, and she glanced at the water, terrified of seeing clothes floating or, worse, a body.
And then she heard the sound of an engine.
A boat was chugging into the marina. Scott was at the helm and there, sitting in the front, laughing as if she didn’t have a care in the world, was Mack.
A sweet rush of relief—thank you, thank you—turned to anger.
She strode down to the jetty on legs so shaky that she stumbled twice.
The moment Mack noticed her, the laughter stopped.
Lauren struggled to speak. She couldn’t get air into her lungs.
Finally she managed to make a sound. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”
Mack stepped out of the boat cautiously. “Worried?”
“You weren’t in your room. You didn’t say where you were going. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Okay, calm down.” Mack backed away but her escape was blocked by Scott.
“She called you, Lauren. I heard her do it.”
“Is that what she told you?” Lauren stuck out her hand. “Give me your phone, Mack.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Mack handed it over and Lauren checked the calls and held up the evidence. “She hasn’t made a call this morning.”
Mack shrugged. “I wanted to go on the boat with Scott and I thought you might say no.”
“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” She was shrieking. She knew she was shrieking but she couldn’t control it. Worry had ripped through the last layers of control, exposing everything she was feeling.
Mack shifted uncomfortably. “Calm down.”
“I’m angry, Mack.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that.”
“Do not use that tone with me. You can’t do this! You can’t wander off, not come home and not say anything about where you are, not call, not text—” She snatched in an unsteady breath. “It is selfish and thoughtless and—cruel.”
“Cruel?” Mack stood frozen to the spot. “How is it cruel?”
“I thought you might have done something, Mack. I thought you might be lying dead in a ditch or drowned or—”
“Dead?” Mack gaped at her. “Why would I be dead?”
“You’re unhappy! I know you’re unhappy.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to be dead. You know that.”
“No, I don’t know that because you don’t talk to me. All I know is that every day you vanish to your room and slam the door. You’re upset about Dad—Ed—but you won’t talk about it. I know you hate school but you won’t talk about that either. You don’t talk about anything. If I had facts to go on I might not have been so anxious but you don’t give me facts so my imagination is all I have left.”
“I didn’t think.”
“Then it’s time you started thinking, Mackenzie!”
Mack pressed herself against Scott. “Okay, but could you calm down? You’re going to blow a blood vessel or something.”
She wanted to calm down, but she couldn’t.
Scott stepped forward and closed his hands over her arms. “It’s my fault. I should have called you myself. I should have known.”
“Why would you have known? You don’t have any experience of teenage girls.”
“She’s okay, Lauren. And she’s learned a lesson. Enough now.”
“I decide when it’s enough. You don’t get to tell me how to parent my child.” She stepped away from him and looked at Mack. “I know you’re sad. Confused. Grieving, but there still have to be boundaries and today you stepped right over that line. From now on I want to know where you are and who you’re with at all times. If you’re going to be late home from school, I want to know. Is that clear?”
Mack’s eyes were swimming. “What’s clear is that my life sucks.”
“Maybe, but it’s going to suck in a place where I can see you.” She turned to Scott. “And The Captain’s House is no longer for sale.”
“Because I took your daughter out on the boat?”
“Because we have other plans for it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“The Stewart family.” She turned back to Mack. “Get your things.”
“I’ll cycle home.”
“I’m putting your bike in the trunk.” She jerked her head toward the car. “Move!”
22
Jenna
Tension: mental or emotional strain
“That was incredible.” Greg lowered his head and kissed her.
“It was.” Jenna slid her arms round his neck. Did incredible sex increase your chances of conceiving? Please let them have made a baby.
Greg stroked her back. “Give me five minutes to recover and we’ll do it again.”
She was tempted, and not just because she wanted to get pregnant. “We don’t have time.”
He rolled over, taking her with him. “We don’t need long.”
“It’s going to take a couple of hours.”
“We could make it a quickie this time.”
“I’m talking about getting ready for dinner. My family is coming over. Had you forgotten?”
“Strangely enough the last thing I’m thinking about when you’re naked and writhing underneath me is your mother.”
Jenna grinned. “Good to know.” She glanced at the clock and shrieked with horror. “Is that really the time?” She sprang out of bed so fast she knocked Greg in the jaw. “We need to get going.”
He sat up, rubbing his jaw. “Why? Your mother is
coming to dinner, that’s all.”
“All? Greg, my mother is coming to dinner.” And my sister, she thought, whose house in London looked like something from a designer magazine.
“I don’t have time for a shower.” She pulled on her clothes, hopping round the room like a circus performer. “Get up, Greg. Why are you smiling?”
“Because I love your hair like that.”
“Like what?” She glanced in the mirror. “I look like I just got out of bed after having wild sex.”
“That’s my favorite hairstyle.”
Jenna grabbed a hairbrush but in the end gave up and scooped her hair into a ponytail. “Get dressed. I need help with the living room.”
“What’s wrong with the living room?”
Muttering protests, he pulled on jeans and a fresh shirt and followed her. “I get that your mother is coming to dinner. What I don’t get is why that necessitates a complete house makeover.” He watched as Jenna tugged cushions from a bag and ripped off the price tags. “Are those new cushions?”
“They are.”
Her sister always had cushions and they never looked as if someone had sprawled all over them, marking children’s work while drinking wine at the end of a long day.
“I hate cushions. Cushions were invented to give men something to throw across the room.”
“They were invented to make the house look cozy and comfortable. Dressed is the word I saw used in a fancy house magazine.”
“That explains it. I like my houses the way I like my women—undressed.”
Jenna dropped to her knees so she could check under the sofa. “Don’t ever say things like that in public. It makes you sound—”
“How does it make me sound?”
“I don’t know—” Jenna sat up and strands of hair tumbled over her face, half obscuring her vision “—unreconstructed.” She shoved her hair back, wishing it was smooth like her sister’s.
“Me Tarzan. You Jenna.” Greg gave her a suggestive smile. “And if you want me to behave like a modern man, don’t throw yourself at my feet, woman.”
“I’m not at your feet. I’m looking for my thong. Remember that night we had sex on the sofa?”
“No.” Greg was deadpan. “No recollection.”
She hauled herself upright and flung a cushion at his head.
