How to Keep a Secret

by Sarah Morgan

  “I thought so, too.” Lauren paused. “Mack is confiding in him a lot.”

  Nancy hid her surprise. “She told you that?”

  “He did. She barely says anything to me, although she did at least tell me where she was going this time.”

  Nancy wanted to help, but she was so afraid of saying the wrong thing and bruising this new, tender relationship.

  “How do you feel about her seeing Scott?”

  “I’m not sure.” Lauren stood up and walked to the window. “To begin with I was hurt that she’d talk to him and not me, but now I feel grateful that she’s talking to anyone. I don’t want her to be on her own with all of this. I miss our chats. At home we used to sit at the kitchen island and talk while she ate a snack. I miss knowing what’s going on in her life. I miss the laughs and the closeness.”

  “You’ll get that back.”

  “Will we?”

  “I know it. And in the meantime, if you need someone to listen, I’m here.”

  Lauren glanced at her and there was surprise in her eyes. “Thanks, Mom. And how about you? We’re stripping away your old life and you’re throwing away things you thought you’d be keeping forever. How does it feel?”

  How did it feel?

  Nancy looked around her transformed garden room.

  She’d hold her book group in here, she decided, at least until they moved out for the summer. Usually they gathered in the kitchen, but this room was light and airy. Now that the weather was warmer they would be able to throw open the windows and let in the sea air. It would be a glorious space in which to meet friends and enjoy good wine and conversation. “It feels good. I feel like a teenager. And it’s all down to you and Jenna. The house feels different.”

  “Being a teenager isn’t all it’s made out to be, Grams.” Mack strolled into the room, her laptop under her arm and her phone in her hand. “It’s not all carefree dancing in the streets you know. If you’ve got five minutes, I have something to show you.” There was a bounce in her step, and an excitement in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  This was the first time Mack had come in from school and not gone straight to her room.

  Progress? Nancy glanced at her daughter, saw tension in her slender frame and knew she wasn’t the only one afraid of doing, or saying, the wrong thing.

  Nancy suspected that Lauren was now so busy being careful, she’d lost the ability to know how to respond. According to Jenna, Lauren had been so adventurous there had been times when her youngest daughter had been nervous. What had happened to that woman?

  Life had changed her, but change could happen in more than one direction.

  If Lauren had been adventurous once, then she could be adventurous again.

  “I’d love to see the website,” Nancy said, “as long as I’m not expected to understand technology. You know I can’t even get the printer to work.”

  “That’s because it wasn’t connected to the Wi-Fi, Grams. I’ve fixed that. Hit Print now and you should be fine.” Mack tapped a few keys and then handed over her laptop. “What do you think?” Her tone was casual but Nancy could feel her granddaughter vibrating with anticipation and pride.

  She sank onto the sofa that Lauren had reupholstered in pale blue stripes and balanced the laptop on her knees. What she saw took her breath away. There, across the top of the screen, was her beloved house. Flowers tumbled, pink and mauve, against the white clapboard. The words The Captain’s House were picked out in bold letters. “Oh, Mack—” Memories surged up, thickening in her throat. “Where did you find this photo?”

  “It’s one of Mom’s, taken way back. It’s a good one, isn’t it? I fiddled with it in Photoshop.”

  “There is a photo shop on the Vineyard?”

  Mack grinned. “It’s a computer program. Lets you manipulate images. One of the boys in the Coding Club showed me a few tricks. I could superimpose your head on a unicorn if you like.”

  Nancy laughed. “Maybe another day.” She turned back to the screen. The picture alone would be enough to attract interest. People would fall in love, as she had. The house stole your heart. How could anyone, looking at this, fail to understand why she’d found it so hard to let it go? “That sky is so blue. The colors are intense.”

  Mack shrugged. “I added a couple of filters to make the colors pop a bit.”

  “Clever. Lauren, would you look at this? The house looks just dreamy.”

  Lauren leaned over her shoulder. “Oh, Mack! It’s like a postcard.” She leaned forward and tapped a key. “This is incredible. You did this?”

  “Yes.” Mack gave a careless shrug that was supposed to say it was nothing, even though they all knew it was a very big something.

  “Stunning.” Nancy added her praise to the pile already out there. “I’d rent it in a flash. These pictures are wonderful. You have a good eye. Oh, you’re a Stewart, no doubt about that.” Mack had artistic talent, too, she realized. In each generation it had manifested itself in different ways.

  “I’m half Rhodes, Grams.”

  “Yes.” Nancy looked at her and smiled. “Yes, you are, honey. Have you shown him this?”

  “He helped me with it.” She eyed her mother cautiously. “He knows a bit about computers. I wanted his opinion.”

  Nancy felt for Lauren. Whatever her own feelings for Scott, he hadn’t stuck by her daughter when she was pregnant.

  If she’d known about that, would it have made a difference to the way she felt about him?

  Maybe not. She’d been desperate enough the night of the hurricane to ask the devil himself for help. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t understand how difficult this whole situation must be for Lauren.

  Nancy let her finger hover over the keyboard. “I want to click on the part that says Rooms. Will I delete the whole thing?”

  Mack laughed. “No.”

  Nancy clicked. “Seaspray?”

  “I gave the rooms names. To make them more personal. But you can change them. Most sites just call the rooms ‘premium double’ or whatever, but that’s boring.”

  “It is boring and I love Seaspray.” Nancy reached for her glasses and peered at the screen. “Oh, you’ve used naval terms. The Anchor Suite. That’s the master bedroom? What a smart idea. And you’ve managed to take photographs that make them look fabulous.”

  “It wasn’t hard. The rooms look great since you’ve done them up, but that’s not surprising because Mom’s good at that.”

  Nancy saw Lauren flush at the unexpected praise and warmth.

  “Thank you, Mack.”

  Nancy explored the rest of the website and handed the laptop back to her granddaughter. “This is excellent. I’m impressed.”

  “I’ve set up a Facebook account, too,” Mack said. “We’ll post pictures of Aunt Jenna’s amazing food because nothing makes you want to move in to a place like a pile of cookies, and I’ll take the view from the garden down to the ocean. I’ll add some video of various places around the Vineyard.”

  “Sounds good. As long as you don’t expect me to update this site. I’m too old for Facebook.”

  “I don’t think you are, but one thing at a time. And we have an Instagram account, too. I’ve already posted some shots.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “It’s an app, Grams.” Mack pulled her phone out of her pocket and showed her.

  Someone was as fired up as she was, Nancy thought. The house was becoming a family obsession.

  “Now it’s nearly finished, you could add in some shots of this room.” Mack stood up and took a few photos with her phone. “This place is special. If I was staying here, I’d be tempted never to leave it.”

  Lauren had given away the old rattan furniture and replaced it with deep, overstuffed sofas she found in a boutique hotel that was closing down. The covers were stain
ed, but she’d replaced them, upholstering long into the night until the light had cheated her.

  She’d ripped up the carpet that had seen better days, polished up the boards until they shone a rich earthy tone and found a rug in a thrift shop.

  Bowls of seashells and a profusion of plants brought the outside into the house.

  Nancy would never have thought her home could have felt so calming.

  Lauren, apparently, wasn’t satisfied.

  “That wall needs something.” Her daughter stared at the blank space on one of the walls with narrowed eyes. “I don’t know what. It needs to be large.”

  Mack checked the photos she’d taken. “How about a photograph?”

  Lauren pondered. “Maybe.”

  Nancy stared at the space, too.

  Why not?

  “That painting I used to have in the entryway would work in the space.”

  Something dragged in the base of her stomach. Could she look at that painting without sadness? Would adding that single drop of poison from the past contaminate everything?

  But it was too late to change her mind because Lauren was nodding.

  “If I remember the colors correctly then it would work perfectly. Let’s try it.”

  “I’ll fetch it now.” Wishing she’d never suggested it, Nancy left the room, missing the look her daughter and granddaughter exchanged.

  “That was pretty cool, Mom,” Mack muttered, her gaze fixed on the door as she waited for her grandmother to reappear. “Think she’ll go for it?”

  “I really hope so, because the painting would look perfect here.”

  “Do you know why she took it down?”

  Lauren hesitated. “I’d be guessing.”

  Mack shrugged. “Go for it.”

  “Everything Grams painted used to be bright and cheerful and then suddenly it all changed.”

  Mack frowned. “You think it was when she found out Gramps was—” she broke off and flushed “—having affairs? I can’t even say it, it’s so gross.”

  “It is gross,” Lauren said calmly, “and yes, I do think that.”

  “Men,” Mack said sagely and Lauren nodded.

  “Absolutely.”

  Oblivious to the conversation going on in her absence, Nancy retrieved the painting that she’d stored in the back of a closet in a spare room.

  She’d put it there because she could no longer bear to look at it. Because it jarred with her mood and reminded her of a time in her life when she’d been happy and hopeful. A time before the dark clouds had set in.

  The painting had mocked her from the entryway. Life used to be like this.

  But why couldn’t life be like that again?

  As Lauren hung it on the wall Nancy could immediately see how well it fit in. And how different it looked here in this sunny room.

  The painting brought the ocean into the room.

  Mack came and stood next to her. “How much is it worth?”

  “Mack!” Lauren sent Nancy an apologetic look but Nancy shook her head.

  “It’s a good question, but I don’t know the answer. A few years ago, probably a stupid amount.” She’d never quite got used to the idea that people were prepared to pay tens of thousands of dollars for one of her paintings. “Now? I don’t know. Tastes change. Fashion changes. The market changes.” Not that she’d ever painted for the market. She’d painted for herself.

  “If you hate looking at it, Grams, you could sell it and use the money to buy yourself something you really want.”

  Nancy put her arm round her granddaughter. “That,” she said, “is an excellent idea. But the strange thing is, I don’t hate it. I used to, but now I think I like it. What do you think, Lauren?”

  “I think it looks good there, providing you’re happy to have it on the wall.”

  Mack stepped closer to the painting. “Why did you never sell this one, Grams?”

  “Your grandfather made me promise never to sell it.”

  Of course he’d made plenty of promises to her that he hadn’t kept. For richer or poorer. He’d made sure it was poorer. Forsaking all others—thinking it made her want to laugh.

  Mack was frowning. “Why would he care about this one in particular?”

  “I painted this the day we got engaged. He wanted to remember it.” But did she?

  “Does it make you uncomfortable, Mom?” Lauren had finished the windows and through the gleaming glass Nancy could see the garden and, beyond that, the ocean.

  Ben was in the garden, his familiar figure bending and straightening as he tended to her beds. Although he did most of the physical work required to maintain the garden, the ideas were hers. They made a perfect team.

  A perfect team.

  She saw his muscles flex as he stamped his foot on the shovel and dug deep. His shoulders were broad and his physical job kept him fit. How had she not noticed that before?

  Something unfurled slowly inside her, a feeling so unfamiliar she didn’t immediately recognize it. Realizing that it was sexual attraction gave her a jolt.

  She was too old to have feelings like that, surely? She’d assumed those days were long gone.

  In all her years of marriage, she’d never strayed. She’d been too bruised from the fallout of her one relationship to even contemplate another.

  “Are you okay, Grams?” Mack was frowning. “You’re flushed. Are you sick?”

  Nancy dragged her gaze back to her granddaughter and then to the painting. If they could read the thoughts going through her mind, they’d be shocked. She was shocked. And goodness only knew what poor Ben would say. She was going to have to be extra careful around him. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if he guessed she was having wildly improper thoughts?

  “Is it the painting that’s upsetting you?” Lauren looked concerned. “If you decide you don’t like it, then we can sell it.”

  Nancy stared at the painting, remembering not the scene in front of her but everything she’d felt at the time.

  She’d been so in love.

  Life had stretched before them, as inviting as a summer meadow. She’d been excited by the seemingly endless possibilities, by the thought of sharing a life with Tom.

  Over the years she’d wondered if she’d imagined the emotion she’d seen in him that day.

  Had he ever loved her? Had she ever been enough?

  But now she realized that no one would ever have been enough for Tom.

  The happiness she remembered had been real, she was sure of it, and was there anything wrong with remembering happier times?

  Glancing out the window, she saw Ben drop into a crouch to plant something in the bed he’d prepared.

  He was so careful, treating each plant as if it were made of glass.

  Ben’s wife had died around the same time she’d lost Tom. Had he seen anyone since? Had he frozen that side of his life as she had?

  Maybe she’d invite him for a meal. As friends. Obviously she’d be careful not to let him know she had feelings that went beyond that. Those were, and always would be, her secret.

  The prospect cheered her.

  She’d thought that her best years were over, but now she was starting to wonder if they were just beginning.

  “I don’t want to sell it,” she said. “It can stay right where it is on the wall.”

  27

  Jenna

  Hope: a feeling of desire and expectation

  that things will go well in the future

  “I’m going into school early today, and I’ll be late home because I’m going over to the house to help Mom with a few final things because Lauren is at the Sail Loft.” Jenna pushed her feet into her shoes. “How’s your day looking? Busy?”

  “Yes.” Greg was seated at the kitchen island, drinking coffee.

  He looked
exhausted. There were smoky shadows under his eyes and he sat slumped, as if crushed by a heavy weight.

  “You were up early.” She’d woken early, too, and reached out to him for a cuddle, only to discover that his side of the bed was cold and empty.

  It had been a few weeks since they’d last made love. She’d been nervous to suggest it in case he thought she was just trying to make a baby.

  “We’re fixing up the last bedroom. The place is looking great. You should see it. Come with me tonight. It would be fun.” It had been a while since they’d had fun, she thought. A while since they’d laughed. How had that happened? They used to laugh all the time.

  They were Jenna and Greg.

  He didn’t look up from his coffee. “Not tonight.”

  “Are you sure? It won’t be awkward. Finally my family is working together, instead of against each other. I thought maybe we could invite Lauren and Scott for a meal sometime. Or do you think that would be tactless?” She grabbed her purse, wishing he’d say something. “I’m not sure whether there’s anything going on between them or not. I mean, I’m sure there is something there, but I’m not sure if they plan on doing anything about it. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  That statement was so ridiculous she almost smiled. “You always know. You always understand what goes on in people’s relationships.”

  Greg wasn’t smiling. “Maybe I’m sick of other people’s relationships. Maybe, for once, I’d rather focus on my own.”

  His tone shocked her as much as his words.

  She didn’t know him like this. It was like living with a stranger.

  As her relationship with her family was improving, it seemed her relationship with Greg was deteriorating. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “How am I supposed to forget a comment like that?” There was an uncomfortable feeling behind her ribs. Panic? “Is this still about the fact I didn’t tell you about my dad?” She was feeling guilty about that, but where was the rule that said a person had to disclose everything?