But she wouldn’t see me that summer, because I didn’t go home to Scupper Island again. I got a job at a hospital as an orderly and stayed in Boston. At Thanksgiving, a storm kept me from taking the ferry home (and I was grateful). When Christmas rolled around, I came back for thirty-six hours, claiming I had to finish a lab report, which was true.
The truth was, I was terrified to be back on the island, afraid someone would see me—especially Luke or Sullivan (who had “mostly recovered,” according to my mom). I felt like a thief, sneaking to my mother’s house and back to the ferry, and yes, I wore a hat and a coat and a scarf both ways so no one could see my face.
I didn’t go back again.
I couldn’t make it back for Lily’s graduation, because of finals, though she came to Boston the following September and stayed with me for an overnight before getting on a plane to Seattle. At some point over the summer, she’d gotten a colorful sleeve tattoo and had studs through her nose, lip and eyebrow, and she still was double take beautiful.
I made Mom come visit me, feigning my desire for her to see the city, which she hated, citing my heavy course load and my job as a research assistant as reasons not to go to the island. Once or twice a year, Mom would take the ferry and meet me. She always went home before dark.
Lily got pregnant my junior year and had Poe, and Mom and I flew out to see her. I went out again a year later, then two years after that, and called often, usually getting voice mail. I sent presents for the baby, who was beautiful and smiley in the few pictures Lily sent.
But when Poe was about five, Lily changed her phone number and failed to give it to me. She would occasionally answer an email. I’d ask to come visit, and Lily allowed it once or twice more, the last time when Poe was ten. Lily went out with her friends, leaving me with my niece, and didn’t come back till the next day.
I got the message. My sister didn’t want anything to do with me. Our magical childhood was a memory and no more.
The truth was, I had done what Dr. Perez told me to do—I made the most of my scholarship. In my first semester at school, I became that girl I’d pretended to be during my English class speech—outgoing, wry, friendly. Maybe it was age, maybe it was being off the island, but I shed thirty pounds in six months, joined the crew team (I’d always been strong) and started running along the Mystic River.
I made friends. I bought them pizza. I was kissed for the first time, dated and eventually lost my virginity to a nice guy. My professors loved me. I did well enough to get into med school right after graduation. Ironically, I did the first year of my residency in Portland, three nautical miles from Scupper Island, until Boston City Hospital poached me with a nice fellowship.
I called my mother every other Sunday, asked after Lily and Poe; my sister had stayed in better touch with our mother than with me. Mom was allowed to visit, and every year I gave her a plane ticket for Christmas. Poe and Lily were fine, from what she could tell.
As for me going back to Scupper Island, no. I managed to stay away for fifteen solid years.
Until now.
9
Dear Lily,
It’s rained a lot the past few days. I forgot how loud it is on the roof of our room. The wind was wild, and a dead pine tree cracked in half. Sounded like a gun went off. Poe slept right through it. Did I tell you I have a big dog named Boomer, who sleeps in our room? Sometimes he puts his nose on Poe’s bed, like he’s tucking her in.
Love,
Nora
The wall between my mother and me was not going to be scaled, it seemed. I tried to talk to her a few times, ask her how she was. I wanted to know if she was lonely or sad or happy or whatever, but any people skills I’d developed in Boston had no effect on her. She ignored my questions on the hug therapy sessions, telling me I should have better things to do than bother her.
As I’d done in college, the only way I could have a conversation with her was if I pretended she was someone else...someone who wanted to talk to me. The result was that I ended up doing all the talking, and she would occasionally grunt or nod or say, “What was that, Nora? I wasn’t paying attention.”
The night after my first trip into town, I tried to engage both my mother and my niece, as well as ignore Tweety, who stood next to my mother’s plate, staring hate at me.
“Have you made any friends on the island, Poe?” I asked, dragging my eyes off the evil yellow bird, taking a bite of dry chicken. This could be you, Tweety.
“No.”
“I bet everyone thinks you’re really cool. You know. Coming from Seattle and your—” piercings “—style.”
She didn’t answer or make eye contact.
Okay. Moving on to the other Stuart woman at the table. “Mom, guess who I saw today?”
She shrugged, chewing.
“Darby Dennings, remember her?”
“Ayuh. I see her all the time.”
“Right. I also saw Sullivan Fletcher.”
Mom nodded. I wondered if she and Poe ate in silence every night, or if, as I suspected, I was their buzzkill. After all, they had more of a bond, since they’d been allowed to stay in touch.
“Yeah,” I said. “So, uh...how’s Luke Fletcher? How’s he doing?”
My mother glanced at me. “He’s all right.”
“Does he still live here? On Scupper?”
“Ayuh.” I waited for more. More failed to come.
“You’ll never be accused of gossiping, Mom.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Who’s Luke Fletcher?” Poe asked.
Wow, a sentence. “He and I went to school together.”
“Was he your boyfriend?”
I snorted, inhaling a piece of chicken, choking a little. “No. We were both up for a scholarship, and I got it. He...he was upset.”
“My mom told me about that.”
“She did?” Lily knew that Luke hated me? Had yelled at me and threatened me?
“She said you went to college and never came back.” Her blue eyes were flat with accusation.
I took another bite of the life-sustaining, flavorless food. “Well, your mom went to Seattle and never came back. I did visit you. Do remember the time—”
“Whatever.” And that was the end of the conversation.
“So I got a place to rent, ladies,” I said, still pretending we were the type to converse. “It’s really cute. A houseboat, actually.”
“Is that right?” Mom said. “The one down near the boatyard?”
“Uh...yeah. In Oberon Cove.” Which was, now that I thought of it, about a half mile from Scupper Island Boatyard, owned by the Fletchers.
“Then you’ll see Luke all the time,” my mother said, giving a kernel of corn to Tweety. “He lives there.”
Shit. The remembered fear of him and his gang of sycophants made my knees tingle. Not in the good way. Tweety gave a squawk, then flew up to the light fixture.
“When do you move out?” Poe asked.
“A few more days, I thought.” Boomer’s tail thumped on the floor. “There’s a second bedroom, Poe, if you want to sleep over. I would love that.”
She glanced at me, the patented incredulous disgust widening her blue eyes. “Sure.”
“You, too, Mom. We could have a girls’ night. Popcorn, movies.” After that, we could fly to Mars, which was just as likely.
“Ayuh. Sounds fun.” She took a bite of corn, which squeaked on her teeth as she chewed. “By the by,” she added, “the clinic here could use a doctor. If you’re stayin’ awhile, that is.”
“Really? Wow, yeah! That’d be great!” Something to do until Lily got out. “Do you know who’s in charge?”
She did, of course, and after dinner, she found the number and handed it to me. The clinic was an extension of the Maine Medical Center, where I’d done a bri
ef stint.
When I was a kid, the clinic hadn’t existed. Dr. Locke saw everyone from newborns to those dying of old age. The Ames family put up the money for a clinic about ten years ago (something Mom had never mentioned). Dr. Locke had just retired, and the same hospital in Portland where I’d done a year of residency had been supplying newly minted doctors to cover the clinic.
I still had my Maine medical license, just in case my mom ever needed me in an emergency, though she wasn’t the type to have emergencies, and certainly not the type to call me if she did. Say a grizzly bear came down from Canada and bit off her arm. Mom would just shoot the bear, sew her arm back on with the thick black thread she used to sew our buttons back on when we were kids, then butcher the bear, make it into chili and use the skin as a rug.
It would be nice, working a little bit. Living alone again (which I could totally do, no matter what my hummingbird heart kept saying). Being useful.
For the first time since coming back, I felt a little flush of hope.
* * *
A few days later, Poe drove my belongings and me to the houseboat. I still wasn’t driving, though I was pretty sure I could. But Poe had her learner’s permit and needed the hours behind the wheel. I figured I’d need a car for the summer; I didn’t have one, since I was a big fan of public transportation. So I’d taken the ferry to Portland, rented a dark green MINI Cooper for the duration. Poe was duly impressed, and so we could continue our bonding (ha), I suggested she drive.
Bad idea. She hovered on the brake, stomped on the gas, blew through a stop sign, then screeched to a halt in the middle of the intersection, causing my dog to lose his footing on the back seat.
“It’s fine. It’s good. You’re doing great,” I lied, practically stomping through the car floor as I pumped the invisible brakes. “Just ease your foot down the—”
We shot off, nearly clipping a tree. She took the ninety-degree turn onto Spruce Brook Road, which was not paved, at thirty miles an hour, dirt and gravel flying. From the back seat, Boomer let out a doggy moan. “Maybe a teeny bit slower,” I suggested tightly.
We were both sweaty when we turned onto the little grassy path road that led to Oberon Cove. “That wasn’t bad,” I lied.
She threw it into Park before it was quite done moving, and we both jerked forward, the seat belts catching. “Perfect,” I said.
Poe got out and stomped around to the back of the car and popped the hatchback to get my two suitcases. She might be grumpy, but she had two good arms. Boomer leaped out that way and trotted off to sniff.
I got out, too, easing my weight onto my healing knee. No more crutches for me, just an ice pack at night.
As ever, memories of my father came with the smell of sea and pine. We’d had a little Boston Whaler back then. Once in a while, we’d come to the boatyard for a part or a repair.
Now Luke lived there. I’d have to see him sooner or later. Maybe time had done its work and gentled his anger. I sure as hell hoped so. At least neither he nor Sullivan had been permanently hurt in that accident. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure I’d be on Scupper right now.
But I was here, and I wanted to see my new place.
From what I’d learned about Collier Rhodes, he had money to burn, and based on the look of things, it was true. The cost of running electric and water out here must’ve been staggering just on its own. He’d even had a septic system put in, Jim the Realtor had told me.
There was a small meadow separating the cove from the road, and my parking area, so to speak, was just a turnoff from the dirt road. A path was cut into the long grass, leading me to the water, which was ringed by pine trees and rocks. Small waves shushed against the shore, and the wind murmured through the trees. The dock itself was made of smooth gray wood, and a rope railing swooped gracefully from post to post. Copper footlights lit the way so I wouldn’t fall in the drink at night.
And the houseboat itself was...wow. Even more beautiful than in the photos.
It, too, was made of pale wood, a modern-looking structure of angles and strange curves. Oddly enough, it was well suited to Oberon Cove. Oh, man, there was a deck on the top! Sweet! And was that...a satellite dish? God bless Collier Rhodes. I could still watch My 600-lb Life.
I caught up with my niece, who was texting someone, and unlocked the door.
“Whoa,” she said before she could help herself.
Whoa indeed.
The door opened to a sleek, modern kitchen. Smoked-glass counters and a stainless steel Viking stove. Big fridge, a banquette that curved around a table and would seat six comfortably. There were windows everywhere, and the place was flooded in golden light. The living room had a fireplace. On a boat! A couch, a beautiful leather chair, glass coffee table.
“Wow,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”
My niece said nothing, just clomped in and dropped the suitcases. I winced. “Can you maybe bring those into the bedroom, honey?” I asked.
“I don’t know where it is,” she said.
“Let’s find it, then.”
It wasn’t far—the whole boat was maybe eight hundred square feet. Poe opened a door and went in, putting the suitcases on my bed...a queen bed across from sleek built-in drawers and closet. The bathroom was nicer than the one in Bobby’s apartment—this one was tiled with pebbles. There was even a bathtub.
“It’s like a really nice hotel,” I said, trying to picture myself here.
“I wouldn’t know,” Poe said.
“Where’s your room?” I asked.
“I don’t have a room here.”
“Yes, you do,” I said. “I think it’s up those stairs.”
I was right; there was a second, smaller bedroom there, bigger than the one at Mom’s. Another bathroom, a little loft space with a futon mattress and a ladder up to the deck, which had a stunning view of the cove and ocean beyond. Teak furniture with red-and-orange cushions and a bar. I could grow herbs up here, and have pots of flowers. It was the most fabulous place I’d ever lived. Thank you, Collier Rhodes!
I turned to my niece with a smile. “Isn’t this great? I really hope you’ll stay with me.”
“Whatever.”
I hesitated. “The truth is, I...I love company. Sometimes I get a little wigged out being on my own. So I mean it, okay? Come see me whenever you want, honey.”
“Will you stop calling me that? I have a name, you know.”
Just because she shares 25 percent of your DNA doesn’t mean you have to put up with this shit, my wiser self advised.
“Hello? Is this your dog?” came a girl’s voice.
Poe and I went downstairs, my knee reminding me that it had recently been separated from the appropriate physiology.
At the kitchen door was a girl with brown hair and a sweet smile. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt. There’s a big dog out here. He’s really friendly. I guess he’s yours?”
She was about Poe’s age, maybe younger, and she had a sweet, round face. A chubby girl, much like my teenage self.
“Hi,” I said. “He’s mine, all right. Boomer, say hello.” I smiled at her, and her smile grew—kind of shocking after two weeks with my niece. “I’m Nora. I’m renting this place, and this my niece, Poe.”
“We know each other,” the girl said. “Hi, Poe.”
Poe grunted.
“I’m Audrey.” The girl stuck out her hand, and I shook it, smiling.
“Do you guys go to school together?” I asked.
“Yes.” Audrey looked at Poe, who was texting. I suppressed a sigh. To the best of my knowledge and observation, Poe didn’t have a single friend here. She came home from school the second it ended and never went out on weekends.
“Come on in,” I said. “What’s your last name?”
“Fletcher.”
“Oh,” I said. “I went to school with Luke and Sullivan. Any re
lation?”
“Sullivan’s my dad.” She smiled again.
Sully had a kid. Wow. And had her young, apparently.
“He and I used to work together at the Clam Shack,” I said.
“Really? That’s so cool.”
“If you like fried food, it definitely was. And I definitely did.” I smiled. “Do you guys, uh, live around here?”
“No, we live in town,” she said. “But my dad owns the boatyard, so I’m here a lot.”
“And how’s your uncle?” So smooth, milking the kid for information.
“He’s good, I guess.”
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t have anything yet. Do you want some water?”
“Oh, no, that’s okay! I just wanted to say hi and make sure this great dog had a person. I love dogs.”
“Poe, did you hear that? She loves dogs, just like you.”
“I hate dogs.”
“Except Boomer, of course,” I said. On cue, Boomer pushed his nose against her hip.
“Are you gonna stay here, too, Poe?” Audrey asked.
“No. I’m not.” Her eyes flickered to me in an unspoken challenge.
“Sometimes she is,” I said. “I hope so, anyway. And you can come over anytime, Audrey.”
“Thanks,” she said, her face lighting up. “This is the coolest place ever, don’t you think?”
“I do! I feel so lucky it was for rent.”
She smiled again. “Well, it was really nice to meet you. See you at school, Poe.”
Poe looked up. “Yeah. See you, Audrey.”
I peeked out the door and watched her walk away (and to make sure she didn’t fall off the dock and drown). “She’s awfully nice.”
Nothing from Poe.
“Don’t you think so?” I prodded.
“She’s fine.”
“Maybe you guys could be—”
“Stop. No matchmaking.”
“I just think it would be nice if you—”
“Nora. Stop moving your lips.”
I felt my eye twitch. “Want to take me to the grocery store, sweetie-pie? I mean Poe?” It occurred to me that I didn’t know if my niece had a middle name.
Now That You Mention It: A Novel Page 10
