by Luanne Rice
“The man and the boy who just drove into the beach. Fancy car, California plates. They look rich and obnoxious,” Quinn said.
“They're here already?” Rumer asked. She looked shocked, as if Quinn had just dropped a live eel on her stainless steel exam table.
“Yep. Are they who I think they are?”
Rumer didn't reply. She must have lost count of the vaccine doses because she went back to the beginning and began over again. Her assistant, a woman about Rumer's age named Mathilda, came down the hall with a bandaged cat.
“He's trying to chew his stitches,” Mathilda said.
“They itch,” Rumer said softly, examining the mangy old cat with gentle fingers. “Don't they, Oscar?”
“Hi, Quinn,” Mathilda said.
“Hi,” Quinn said, feeling self-conscious. Naturally, Mathilda was scoping Quinn out, wondering what she was doing here on a school day. She probably looked like a suspended loser: Instead of school clothes, she was in her old salt things, straight from checking her lobster pots—greasy oilskins, fish-scale-encrusted boots. Mathilda smiled, as if she wanted to make Quinn feel better.
Rumer swabbed the cat's wounds with some orange stuff, and then rebandaged them. Quinn kept her eyes on the cat so she wouldn't have to look at Mathilda. Sometimes she didn't know how to be around people trying to be nice to her. She didn't know the woman's last name, but she knew that she was divorced and lived in a small house out by the lake. People whispered about the tragedy she'd been through—it had to do with love, marriage, some man.
When Mathilda left the room with Oscar, Rumer looked up.
“So, what brings you here today?”
“I don't know,” Quinn said. “I had to go to school to get my ruler out of my locker. Yesterday I threw back at least two keepers because I wasn't positive they were legal size.” She reached into her pocket and wagged the ruler in the air.
“And you came by to show me?” Rumer asked, smiling.
“Yeah, I felt like it. Well, and something else… I'm sorry I walked out on my veterinary science test. I just wanted you to know, it wasn't personal.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Rumer said. “But you still have to make it up—in summer school.”
“Summer school,” Quinn said, shivering. “That would kill everything. I have my lobstering…I don't want to go to school after June. In fact, I can't”
“Quinn, there's no such thing as the easy way out,” Rumer said.
“Lobstering's not easy!”
“I know, but it won't get you into college.”
“Who needs college? It would just take me away from what I already have…I can't wait to grow up and be a Dame de la Roche. I'm going to be like you and Winnie—never get married and stay at the Point forever.”
“Hmmm.”
“Even Aunt Dana's selling out! But at least she's marrying Sam and staying here. I feel sorry for the women who leave—like ol’ Elisabeth Randall. And your sister! Are those guys in the Range Rover with her? I know they're coming—Aunt Dana told me.”
“Sounds like them,” Rumer said, her voice strangely calm. “Zeb and Michael. You used to play with Michael a long time ago.”
“Must have been a long, long time ago. He doesn't look like someone I have much in common with.”
“What time did they get here?”
“I saw them about two hours ago. Talking to Winnie in her yard.” Quinn scuffed her toe, felt her heart kick over. She pictured Mr. Sargent, the principal, standing at the end of the hall, watching as she'd gotten her ruler from her locker. “Rumer?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think… if I apologized… you could talk to Mr. Sargent and get me unsuspended? I don't want o go to summer school…”
“I don't have much influence with him, Quinn. I teach just one class, part-time. But I'll try,” Rumer said as the outside door opened and closed. Quinn heard the sound of a big dog pulling on a leash—panting, his nails scrabbling on the hard linoleum floor.
“Okay—and thanks,” Quinn said, leaving a trail of fish scales as she walked down the long hallway to the doorway where she'd left her bike.
Riding six miles to the train bridge, her emotions stabilized. Up the hill just inside Hubbard's Point, past the cemetery, down the hill toward home. She coasted past Sixtus, fixing up his boat. She almost stopped to talk to him—he understood her like hardly anyone else did. Her aunt had told her he'd lost his father even younger than Quinn, and that he'd had a rough childhood up in Canada. He had had a twin brother who'd died of pneumonia some years back.
Now, stopping by her house, Quinn caught sight of Allie. Allie had gotten out of school early today—she was two grades behind, and the ninth-graders had taken a morning field trip on board the nature center boat. She was watering the garden, to make sure it looked nice for the wedding. Quinn's spine tingled just thinking of how horrible it would be to lose a sibling— almost worse than losing their parents.
“Hey, Al,” she said.
“Where were you, Quinn?”
“School.”
Allie's eyes showed confusion—also hurt. She thought Quinn was lying—of course she had heard the whole story of her getting kicked out.
“I really was there, Allie. I had to get my ruler.”
“What for?”
“To measure the lobsters. Don't want to get arrested for taking undersized—”
At Allie's look of alarm, Quinn shook her head fast. “No, no—just kidding, Al. I won't get arrested.”
“Why do you have to get in so much trouble?” Allie whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. They were tears of love—Quinn had no doubt. Their bond was strong and permanent; since their parents’ drowning, they had taken care of each other. Quinn would say and do anything to chase her sister's tears away, but she didn't seem able to change herself.
“I try not to,” Quinn said. “I don't mean to. I'm sorry if I embarrass you.”
“It's not that,” Allie said, sounding tormented as she wiped her eyes. “I just worry about you. I don't want life to be so hard for you.”
“Neither do I,” Quinn whispered, sinking down to sit on a rock, spotting that boy from California watching them from down the street. She felt like throwing something at him, telling him to mind his own business, but with Allie watching, she never would. She didn't want to upset her sister, but she didn't like being watched.
“Let them know you're wonderful,” Allie said, her throat thick with emotion.
“What? Who?”
“The kids at school.”
“Why should I? They think I'm weird. Why should I try to change their minds?”
“They don't think you're weird, Quinn,” Allie said. “But they don't know you very well. You only let the people you're sure of know you at all.”
“Who am I sure of?”
“Me, Aunt Dana, Sam…Rumer, Mr. Larkin, Mrs. McCray, Wnnie… the ones who love you.”
Quinn just stared at her rubber boots. Allie had left the hose running, watering the rambling pink roses that tumbled over the steep ledge, and the sound was soothing, like a waterfall.
“To everyone else,” Allie whispered, “you're like a lobster.”
“I love lobsters,” Quinn whispered back.
“I know. But they have such hard shells and big claws…”
“They can't hurt you,” Quinn scoffed. “Not seriously.”
“But people don't know that. All they see is the armor, the scary claws.”
Quinn watched Allie move the hose, so now it was watering the bridalwreath and basket of gold—spiky bushes of white flowers and low feathery green ground cover, all planted by their grandmother. She had died last winter, and Quinn felt a pang. Allie's words were ringing in her ears.
“You don't have to hide yourself,” Allie said. “I want everyone to know you like I do.”
“No one ever can,” Quinn said, closing her eyes tight. “We've been through so much together.”
“I know…but just don't make it so
hard with the others. You don't have to.”
“It feels as if I do,” Quinn whispered, her eyes still closed.
When the last people had left with their animals, Rumer took a long time making her last rounds of the kennel. She had one cat—Oscar—who'd been mauled by a fox, a golden retriever who had been hit by a car, a highly protective stray mother cat and her kittens, and a litter of puppies who had been stuffed into a pillowcase and survived being thrown into the Ibis River. She petted and talked to all of them—the strays needed to get used to people, and the others missed their families.
“You're here late,” Mathilda commented, looking up from washing the instruments.
“Yes, I just don't feel like leaving yet.”
“Everyone ready to go down for the night?”
“Actually, there's a feeling of just getting geared up for the evening,” Rumer said. “That mother cat has her eye on the golden—I think she's afraid he'll come right through the cage for her kittens.”
“Poor guy can barely walk,” Mathilda said.
“I know, but tell that to her instincts,” Rumer said, making notes.
“Ah, instincts,” Mathilda said meaningfully, glancing up from under her bangs. She was a large woman; she had once told Rumer that the kids in her neighborhood growing up had teased her and called her “fat girl.” Her blue smock held the pin Rumer had given her as an award last year: “In honor of superlative care and compassion for the animals of Black Hall and everywhere.” When Rumer ignored her now, Mathilda cleared her throat for good measure.
“What are you trying to say?” Rumer asked.
“Just that, given what Quinn Grayson had to tell you, your instincts have to be going on a bit of a rampage. ‘The Range Rover people’—that's them, right?”
“Bingo.”
“So, how do you feel?”
“Well,” Rumer said, listening to the animals down the hall, “something like that….”
“A kennel full of barking dogs?”
Rumer nodded.
Mathilda had been a friend as long as she'd been an employee: eight years. Rumer had seen her through her divorce; she had helped Mathilda find the courage to call the domestic abuse hotline, she'd driven her to the lawyer, she had held her hand while Mathilda had cried, and she'd bought her a rosebush to plant in her garden the day the divorce was final. Now Mathilda settled herself on a stool in the corner, wedged her chin in a propped-up hand, and peered out from under her bangs.
“What?” Rumer asked.
“Dr. Larkin. Rumer, my friend,” Mathilda said. “I've been waiting all this time to be here for you, and something tells me this just might be my chance.”
Rumer took a deep breath and closed her eyes. The air filled her lungs, and tiny white stars spangled on the back of her eyelids. “I can't believe the effect this is having on me,” she said. “It's Zeb and Michael. My brother-in-law and nephew.”
“‘Brother-in-law’? I guess that's one way of putting it,” Mathilda said as if questioning that particular definition of their relationship.
“You're right. Ex,” she said, correcting herself.
“Come on, Rumer!”
“Former best friend,” Rumer said, conceding.
“Get out of town! How about love of your life? Till he took up and married the movie star who just happened to be your sisterl”
“When you put it that way…” Rumer said.
“No wonder you feel like a kennel of barking dogs. I think I'd feel as if my skin were inside out! I remember the first time I saw Frank and his new wife together—in the Pampers aisle at the A&P, wouldn't you know? I swear, I thought I was going to vaporize on the spot.”
“Did you?” Rumer asked, smiling.
“Damn near!” Mathilda said, giving a shiver. “But not so he could see.”
“Wouldn't give him that kind of satisfaction,” Rumer said.
“Nope. You'd have been proud of me. I stood tall— gave my spine a little talking-to and drew myself up from the inside out. Then I pushed my cart straight on past, looked his new wife right in the eye, and gave her a serious wink.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” Mathilda said. “Why not? I know what she's in for, even if she hasn't figured it out yet.”
“Men are like tigers,” Rumer said. “They don't change their stripes.”
“Damn straight,” Mathilda said. “So no wonder you're all shivery over Zeb's arrival. Doesn't much matter whether the guy's a wife-beating boat mechanic or a world-famous astronaut. Once they've broken your heart, they're done for.”
“It all happened so long ago,” Rumer said. “I'm way past having a broken heart. It healed twenty years ago. I became a vet, I'm following my dream, and I've never looked back. He's long since faded into the woodwork.”
Mathilda just looked at her as if she were the saddest case in the world.
“What?” Rumer asked.
“Oh, Doctor,” Mathilda said, patting her hand. “You're in trouble.”
By the time she drove into the Point, up Cresthill Road to her house, the sun had started to set, and Rumer was again calm. The yards were a lacework of shadows, deep and profound. The rabbits had come out of their warrens up and down the road, hopping through all the yards. At this time of day, late sun shone in bursts of gold through the thick branches, the lighthouses had come on across the Sound, and Rumer felt the presence of old ghosts; she thought of Mathilda's word, “shivery,” and shivered.
She felt her mother; Quinn's mother, Lily Grayson; and Elisabeth Randall. She had good women in her life and in her past.
Rumer stood still, gazing across the water toward the Wickland Rock Light. It flashed once, twice in the deepening twilight. Elisabeth—her grandmother's great-grandmother—had given up so much for love. She had abandoned her daughter Clarissa—Rumer's great-great grandmother—to run away with ship captain Nathaniel Thorn, and die in a gale when the Cambria wrecked on the shoal.
And Rumer's mother—she had loved Sixtus Larkin so much, Rumer had no doubt that she had saved his life. Rumer had once thought she and Zeb would be that for each other.
Looking up at the roof next door, she could almost see herself and Zeb as children, staring at the stars. Cassiopeia, the North Star, Arcturus, the Big Dipper… the stars told their story.
She had never thought she could hate, but that's the feeling she'd had when Zeb had married Elizabeth. She and her sister had had a code—they would never go after the boys the other liked.
In a way, before Elizabeth had turned her sights on Zeb, boys had seemed trivial when it came to the relationship of the two Larkin girls.
“I'm for you and you're for me,” Elizabeth had said, linking arms with Rumer as they stood in the side yard. It was July, the year the sisters were fifteen and eighteen, just before Elizabeth would leave for her first off-Broadway part in The Wild Duck.
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“No mere boy will ever come between us.”
“As if one could!”
“Tell it, Rue!”
“I can't believe we're even having this conversation. If you like someone, all you have to do is tell me.”
“He's off limits forever.”
“And vice versa.”
“Drink to it,” Elizabeth had said, holding out her flask of blackberry brandy.
“I don't need to,” Rumer said, trying to laugh it off. “Why do you have to drink anyway?”
“Because it makes more passion possible!” she exclaimed, swigging.
“You're passionate enough,” Rumer tried to assure her.
“No such thing. That's why we'd better take this vow. Okay, where were we?”
“We'll never cross each other's line when it comes to boys.”
“The weaker sex,” Elizabeth chuckled.
Rumer laughed right along.
“Although, who needs such a vow?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we all know who you're going
to marry….”
“Who?”
“Starman. But, please, Rue—can't you be a little more original? A little more adventurous—I mean, the boy next door?”
“Zeb.”
“Yes, Zeb. When did he first propose? When you were six?”
“Five,” Rumer said, pushing her.
“At least promise me you'll lose your virginity to someone else. If you have sex with Zebulon Mayhew and no one else, you'll never know what you might have missed. Although, he is fairly hot.”
“Yes, he is,” Rumer said.
“Those biceps popping out of his T-shirt—not bad. And the other day I was standing upstairs and I saw him naked through his window. Wheeeeew! The boy next door grows up!”
“I've noticed,” Rumer said, and her gaze traveled over to the bushes between their yards, hoping Zeb wasn't listening. The fact was, she had never imagined loving anyone else. They had the same history… they had loved each other forever. And regardless of Elizabeth's teasing, she thought he was the sexiest guy at Hubbard's Point or anywhere else.
“Just promise me you'll have sex with more than one person. That was fine for Mom and Dad, but not for us.”
“I don't think it sounds so bad,” Rumer said.
“What are you, a prude? Learn to make Zeb a little jealous along the way—all the boys at the beach like you. It wouldn't kill you to date them as long as you stay away from Billy Jones. He's mine.”
“I know,” Rumer had said, wondering what would happen. Although she and Zeb loved each other—she had no doubt—they had never gone on a date. Passing notes back and forth in the drawer at Foley's was about as far as they'd gotten.
“Right—time to take the vow.” But then Elizabeth had caught the look on Rumer's face. “What's wrong?”
“Sometimes I think Zeb and I are too close,” Rumer said. “More like brother and sister than—”
Elizabeth had laughed—a little bitterly, Rumer had often though later. “Believe me, Rue. He doesn't think of you as a sister. I've seen how he watches you—and when you went sailing with Jeff McCray that time, he spent the whole time on the beach, waiting for you to get back. When you played tennis with Halsey James last week, he got me to grab my racket and take the next court…”
