He sank cross-legged onto the floor—all right, he was flexible, so maybe he did yoga, that was a small plus—and chewed his own toast in a companionable way, catching the crumbs in the palm of his hand. His feet were bare.
This guy would be perfect for Ava, Elaine thought, then felt her face flush as she remembered the unpleasant scene from last night: Gigi dancing in her sister’s living room and singing Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” The worst part was that Elaine knew the lyrics by heart because it was one of Dad’s favorite songs.
Gigi’s father’s, too, obviously. Crap.
Elaine’s hand started shaking so badly, she had to set the empty coffee mug down on the table. She moved too clumsily and missed the table altogether.
Gabe magically appeared beside the bed and caught the mug before it hit the floor. “Whoa. You okay?”
His voice was deep, as appealing as his laugh, but she was determined not to like it. Or him, with his Jedi mind tricks. Gabe needed to leave her condo so she could think. He needed to leave now.
She must have said these words aloud, because Gabe bent over and started strapping on shoes. Sandals, naturally, the sort of thick-soled, wide-strapped leather sandals a camel trader would wear. “Okay. If you’re sure you’re feeling all right, I’ll get out of your hair,” he said. He was almost, but not quite, smiling.
She glared. “I am totally fine.”
“You’re vertical, anyway.” Gabe hovered at the foot of her bed. “But if you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t seem fine at all.”
“I do mind,” Elaine countered, “since you don’t know one thing about my life upon which to base your opinion.”
“‘Upon which’?” he repeated, grinning.
“Yes,” she said. “What’s wrong with that?”
Gabe laughed. “Nothing! I’m delighted to meet a woman who knows her way around a prepositional phrase. That’s why I stopped going online to meet women, you know. I couldn’t stand wading through that sulfurous grammar bog.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, then clammed up, afraid of appearing too agreeable.
Little chance of that. She was too hungover. Bits and pieces from the night before were starting to soak through her consciousness now, as if a layer of paper towels had been pressed onto her damp brain and the contours of last night’s events were only now seeping through it.
Fact: she had been to not just one bar, but two.
Fact: she had driven crazily from Ava’s to the Matchbox Bar, testing how long the yellow lights stayed yellow, only to be escorted out the door by a bouncer because she’d started yelling at some guy about something she couldn’t even bear to remember right now.
Fact: she had driven home, ditched her car, and walked to the Foggy Tavern around the corner from her apartment.
She’d never set foot in the Foggy Tavern before. In fact, she typically crossed the street to avoid it. It was the kind of neighborhood bar with Christmas lights strung up year-round, neon 3-D beer signs, motorcycles parked outside, and a karaoke machine in the corner. How had she ended up there, for God’s sake? What primitive part of her cerebral cortex had fired up to make her think that was such a brilliant idea?
Gabe was watching her closely with those unnervingly sympathetic eyes, apparently tracking her thoughts. “How much do you remember?”
Elaine waved a hand, hoping it wouldn’t tremble. “Enough to know we didn’t sleep together.”
“You don’t really know that.” His voice was pleasant. “I could have had my way with you and dressed you afterward. You were really out of it.”
The same horrible thought had crossed her mind, too, of course, but she had dismissed it. Somehow, Elaine couldn’t picture a date rapist in sandals and a Habitat for Humanity T-shirt.
“You’re not the type,” she said.
“Lucky for you. But the next guy who picks you up in a bar might be.”
Gabe now sounded as stern as Ava. One thing was clear: this guy was a caretaker. Probably the adult child of an alcoholic or the oldest brother of a dozen kids.
“Are you lecturing me?” She squinted at him, bringing him into focus, her head swimming.
“Nope. I wouldn’t dare. But honestly? Do you remember anything about last night? I practically had to carry you home.”
Elaine felt a slight tremble in her lower lip and put her fingers up to stop it. “Not really.” She wouldn’t let herself whisper, hang her head, or close her eyes. In her experience, refusing to act ashamed was the first step toward moving on from a bad decision instead of wallowing in guilt. “Where did we meet?”
“In the karaoke bar around the corner. You were singing an Aerosmith song.”
“That’s impossible. I can’t sing.”
“I didn’t say you were any good.”
Elaine winced at the idea that she might have been bellowing into a microphone as some reflexive, ridiculous, ineffective revenge for Ava letting Gigi sing in her house. Jesus. Was she really that jealous? That pathetic?
She was, obviously.
“Then what? How did you end up in my condo?” She couldn’t bring herself to say “in my bed.”
“It wasn’t easy. I thought you were going home with that motorcyclist in the red bandanna. The guy with all the tattoos. Remember him?”
Elaine groaned. It was all starting to come back like a downloaded YouTube video playing in halting segments: some bald Neanderthal in a red bandanna had actually picked her up and slung her over one shoulder. He’d tried to carry her out of the bar. This much Elaine remembered because she could recall the dizzying, sickening sensation of the world being upside down, a world of blue jeans and sneakers and peanut shells on the floor.
Then what?
It was all a blank. “We didn’t sleep together.” She wanted to be absolutely clear on this point.
“No.” His light brown eyes crinkled again. “I only ravish women who are awake.”
“I’ve never done anything like this before. This isn’t me.”
Gabe had stopped smiling. “Glad to hear it.” He put on his denim jacket—seriously? A denim jacket? Who wore those, other than models posed against mountain backdrops in catalogs?—pulled a card out of his wallet, and placed it on the table beside her. “Call me if you ever need a bodyguard for one of your nights on the town. Or a lunch date.”
She picked up the card and squinted at it. Gabriel Blaustein. Oh, God. The knight who’d come to her rescue was a chubby Jew in a jeans jacket who, for some reason, had been in a karaoke bar with Christmas lights and defended her honor in some mysterious, misguided attempt at chivalry. And she had no ethical choice but to be grateful. Or to act grateful, anyway, even if she’d rather have him just beam up to wherever he’d come from.
“Wait,” she said.
Gabe turned around, his eyebrows raised above the frames of his black glasses.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gabe,” she said. “My name is Elaine.” Out of habit, she didn’t offer her last name.
“I know.”
“How?”
“I had to go through your purse to find your driver’s license, so I’d know where to carry you home after you passed out.”
“Oh my God.” She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, humiliation rising like a cloud of unpleasant scent to choke her.
She felt the side of the bed sink as Gabe sat down. He reached over and stroked her hair. “Everybody’s entitled to one bad night,” he said. “You got lucky on yours. But don’t do that again, okay? Or if you do, keep that card in your wallet so you can call me. Promise?”
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, clenching her eyes shut.
“Why not?” Gabe continued to stroke her hair, his fingers gentle.
Elaine didn’t have an answer to that, so she said nothing. It was taking all the energy in the world
not to cry.
• • •
They found Katy in the garden. She looked remarkable, Ava thought, nearly healed. Her pale hair was brushed straight back from her forehead and held in place with a tortoiseshell hair band. Her gray eyes were serene. She was wearing black capris and a pink tank top, and she was weeding one of her perennial gardens, tossing plants into a green plastic tub.
Katy stood up and shaded her eyes as they approached. “Oh, hello! I didn’t even know you’d gone out,” she said to Gigi. “No wonder you didn’t answer when I called to see if you wanted breakfast.”
As Gigi explained about riding her bike to Ava’s house to see Evan’s drawings, Ava wondered how it was that a mother wouldn’t know if her fifteen-year-old daughter had left the house. Of course, as Elaine had pointed out, their own mother never knew where they were, either. Maybe that was the result of having a house big enough that your bedroom was on a separate floor from your child’s. Ava could still remember the heady thrill of sneaking out of this very house in high school to meet Mark in the middle of the night.
“Mom, Ava and I need to talk to you about something,” Gigi said.
“Okay.” Katy’s expression was suddenly wary.
Ava felt sorry for Katy, who clearly was imagining all sorts of new problems, now that she’d entrusted Gigi to Ava. Katy probably thought she was a nice but slack hippie who played with clay in a beach house; she wouldn’t be far off the mark, either.
Ava remembered Simon’s words then—“a saltwater woman”—and felt herself flush with pleasure. She hoped he’d thought of her even half as often as she’d been thinking about him, despite how impossible it was to pursue a relationship. They had both agreed on that point before parting. Still, that didn’t stop Ava from replaying the feel of his mouth on hers.
To Katy, Ava said, “It might be better if we all sat down.”
Katy nodded and led them into the kitchen. Ava and Gigi sat on metal stools at the granite counter. The house was so cold, it was like walking into a meat freezer; now Ava wished they’d stayed in the garden.
“Water?” Katy asked.
“Sure,” Ava answered.
Katy brought bottles of citrus-flavored water out of the refrigerator. Gigi uncapped all three bottles with a bottle opener shaped like a mermaid while her mother stood on the other side of the counter, hands braced against it. Ava tried to imagine her father using that mermaid to uncap his nightly beer but failed.
Katy still wore her gardening gloves, which were blue and elbow-length. “Poison ivy,” she said, as she followed Ava’s gaze and removed the gloves. “I’m so allergic I swell up like the Elephant Man if I come within ten feet of it. So what’s up?”
Ava eyed Gigi, but the girl stared at her bottle of water. Ava cleared her throat. “This morning I found out that Dad told Gigi something about having another child. A boy. He told me the same thing. I need to know if he said anything to you about this as well.”
Katy’s face relaxed a little. “Oh, that.”
Her nonchalance was irritating. “Yes, that,” Ava said. “It’s a shock to me, as you can probably imagine.”
“Really?” Katy seemed genuinely surprised. “I’m sorry. I thought you must have known.” She bit her lip, studying Ava and Gigi across from her. “Wow. I never realized how much the two of you looked alike until just now.” Her voice sounded strained. “I can really see the resemblance, with both of you staring at me like that.”
Gigi and Ava glanced at each other. Gigi flashed a quick smile, then turned to Katy again. “Mom,” she said gently, “we’re not trying to upset you or anything. We just need to know if you can help us find our brother.”
“I don’t know where he is.” Katy sighed. “Truthfully, I never knew a thing about him until your dad’s last weeks. Then he started telling me all these things he thought I should know. A lot of it was hard to hear. Especially that.”
Ava’s heart went out to her. She knew how debilitated she’d been by the divorce; after Mark moved out, there were entire weekends when all she could manage was a trip to the grocery store, and sometimes not even that. She couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a spouse. And what if your husband had lived a completely different life before he met you? A life with children, a wife, a career. Fifteen years was nothing in the lifetime of a marriage, when one spouse was as old as Dad.
“Is there anything he told you about my brother that might be helpful?” she asked.
“You need to tell us if he did, Mom,” Gigi said. “He’s my brother, too.”
Katy pulled one of the stools around to her side of the counter and sat down. “I don’t know much that could help you,” she said, looking at Gigi. “Dad was scared to tell you himself, honey. He didn’t want you to hate him because he’d given up a child.”
“I wouldn’t!” Gigi said quickly.
“I know,” Katy said. “That’s why I encouraged him to talk to you before he died, about anything he wanted you to know. Even things he wanted to share with you, but not with me. I knew there probably wouldn’t be another chance.” Her voice caught; she had to stop and sip her water. “Your dad told me your mother got pregnant sophomore year of high school. Of course their parents were horrified, especially when the baby was born with problems.” Katy gave Ava a curious look. “Suzanne never told you any of this?”
“No. Nothing.” Ava felt the tiny spots and sparkles on the granite counter swimming up to meet her. She clung to the edges of the stool with both hands. “Why didn’t they get married then?”
Katy looked surprised again. “Suzanne’s parents—your grandparents—didn’t want them to get married. They thought Bob was beneath your mother. He came from a farming family outside of town, as I’m sure you know. Your grandfather on your mom’s side owned a car dealership and made a good living. They sent your mom away to have the baby, but something went wrong. The baby was born blind, barely breathing. Suzanne’s parents told her he was born defective because she’d had sex out of wedlock and this was God’s punishment for her sin.”
Ava put a hand to her mouth, imagining her poor mother as a girl Gigi’s age, going through this. “That’s awful.”
“I know.” Katy’s gray eyes were soft. “Bob told me Suzanne gave the child up before he even knew it was born. I can’t blame her.” She glanced at Gigi. “She wanted to please her parents, I’m sure.”
“So she put the baby up for adoption?” Gigi was leaning forward now, resting her elbows on the counter, hanging on every word. Even her hair seemed to be listening, the pink and orange tufts quivering like antennae.
“They gave the baby to somebody in Suzanne’s family.” Katy frowned. “Your dad wasn’t involved in that, either, so he wasn’t sure who. An aunt, he thinks. But then she gave the baby up, too.”
“Where did he go after that?” Gigi gnawed at a ragged bit of chipped blue fingernail.
Katy sighed. “I don’t know, honey. I don’t think they had orphanages anymore in the nineteen seventies, but I could be wrong. He was probably placed in foster care or an institution.”
“That’s harsh,” Gigi said.
“It’s what people did back then.” Katy patted her daughter’s hand.
Ava was clenching her teeth so hard her jaw had started to ache, but her thoughts wouldn’t stop pinging in all directions. “You don’t know any more?”
Katy frowned. “I don’t think there’s anything else to the story, really. As soon as Suzanne turned eighteen and she could leave home without being worried her dad would stop her, Bob convinced her to leave Maine, the Catholic Church, their families. Everything. They eloped and moved to Boston.”
“Dad put himself through college and worked, while Mom stayed home with Elaine and me,” Ava said. “She was always fighting depression in some way or another. I guess this might explain why.”
Katy collected their water bottles. �
��I don’t know much about your mother’s state of mind.”
Ava let this statement hover in the air between them for a minute, feeling the cold unspoken words about what part Katy had played in breaking up her parents’ marriage. She could see the weight of those words on Katy’s narrow shoulders, in the way Katy curved her body forward and leaned more heavily on the counter. Ava felt sorry for her, but that emotion was mixed with anger.
“Who did you say they gave the baby to?” she asked.
Katy frowned and adjusted her hair band. “I don’t know. Bob never told me her name. An aunt of your mother’s, I think.”
“It must have been Great-aunt Finley,” Ava said. “She and Mom were pretty close. Finley had an apartment in her house near Moosehead Lake and that’s where my mother went to live after Elaine moved back to Boston. I haven’t seen Finley since Mom died, and I hardly saw her before that. She’s a little strange.”
“No wonder she and Suzanne got along,” Katy said, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “God. I didn’t mean to say that aloud. Sorry.”
Ava was startled enough to laugh. “It’s fine. I’m used to Elaine, remember? She has fewer filters than most.”
Katy picked up the sponge next to the sink and began rubbing furiously at invisible spots on the counter. “That sister of yours should learn some manners.”
“Yeah? And who’s going to teach her? You?” Ava said.
For a minute, she thought Katy might throw the sponge at her. But then she sighed and said, “I’m sorry, Ava. For everything. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Ava said. She had never blamed Katy, but it was only recently that she’d begun to see why her father had been so drawn to her that he would risk leaving his old life behind to start over.
Gigi jumped down off the stool. “Come on!”
“Where?” Ava asked.
“We need to call this aunt and ask about the baby!”
Ava shook her head. “We can’t. Finley doesn’t have a phone.”
Beach Plum Island Page 12
