Shore Lights

by Barbara Bretton

  “You know, Hannah, Grandma Rose doesn’t really own a restaurant.”

  “People eat food there.”

  “Yes, but that’s because they’re guests in Grandma Rose’s house.”

  “Grandma says they pay her money to stay there.”

  “That’s right and for their money Grandma Rose gives them a beautiful room and some delicious meals.”

  “I thought that’s a rest’rant.”

  “You don’t sleep in a restaurant, Hannah.”

  “Lisa says Grandma doesn’t like you.” Hannah looked up at Maddy, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “I hear you fighting sometimes.”

  I need a road map, God, and fast. Something to point out where the land mines were hidden before she stepped on one. Who knew the mother-daughter dance began so early?

  “Grandma Rose loves me very much,” Maddy said, “same as she loves you. It’s just that we don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things.”

  “Lisa’s mommy says you ran away from home when you were little.”

  The National Enquirer had nothing on Paradise Point, where gossip was an art form cultivated in the cradle.

  Maddy smiled at her daughter. “I think I must have run away a thousand times.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I had a little Barbie lunchbox—”

  “You had a Barbie?”

  “I had two Barbies,” she said, enjoying the look of astonishment on her daughter’s face. “And I used to grab my Barbie lunchbox and my crayons and my Grease coloring book and storm out of the house.”

  “They had Barbies when you were little?”

  “Barbie’s been around a long time.”

  “Did Grandma get mad at you?”

  “Sure she did, but I didn’t care. I was going to run far away where she’d never find me.”

  Hannah fell silent and Maddy’s heart felt ready to burst through her rib cage with love. Hannah was seeing Maddy as a little girl for the first time, a little girl who maybe felt just like Hannah was feeling.

  “Did you run far away?”

  Maddy laughed. “Remember that spot on the beach that I showed you?”

  “The spot near the fence where Priscilla—”

  “That’s the one. When I was little there was a big boulder there, and I’d tuck myself between the boulder and the dunes and pretend I was invisible.”

  “But you weren’t.”

  “Nope, I wasn’t invisible at all.” Grandma Fay and Rose and all of her sisters had been watching her every step along the way. She learned later that the telephones rang off the hook every time she ran away from home as a posse of aunts and cousins kept their collective eye on her.

  “Were you scared?”

  “A little.”

  “But being in your secret place was good.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Hannah considered that idea for a few moments. “I have a secret place.”

  “Behind the curtains in my bedroom.”

  Hannah made a face. “That was in the old place.”

  “I could hear you giggling back there.” Was there really a time when her little girl had been so filled with happiness that there was laughter to spare?

  Hannah looked up at her, and for an instant Maddy didn’t quite recognize the look in her daughter’s eyes. Hannah looked older and sadder. More knowing. She looked the way Maddy had looked after her father went back to Oregon.

  “Do you have a new hiding place, honey?” she asked. “I could show you—”

  But Hannah’s eyes were no longer dancing with curiosity. She had withdrawn into sadness once again and Maddy knew all she could do was wait for her daughter to reach out again.

  No matter how easy you tried to make it for them, no matter how you tried to cushion the blows, there was nothing you could do to keep your child’s heart from breaking when her home was split in two. All the Saturdays in the park, all the Sunday brunches—they couldn’t begin to equal going to sleep each night, knowing that both of your parents were right outside your door.

  “YOU DON’T HAVE to do this,” Claire said as they waited while Billy Jr. ran back upstairs for his homework. “I can make it to the bus stop.”

  “How much sleep did you get last night?” Aidan asked, taking note of the dark circles under her eyes and her swollen right jaw.

  “I don’t know,” she said, stifling a yawn. “An hour . . . maybe two. Percocet puts everyone else on earth to sleep. On me it works like six cups of espresso.”

  “So go back to bed after we leave. Take it easy. Root canal’s a bitch.”

  His sister-in-law might be sleepy, but she wasn’t stupid. “Okay, spill,” she said, giving him a variation of the look she used to shoot at Billy. “What’s with all of this brotherly concern? The last time you treated me this nice was when I went into labor during Midnight Mass.”

  “You were the one bitching about squeezing twenty-five hours into twenty-four. I thought I’d cut you some slack. Give you a chance to veg out one more day.”

  “Yeah? And who’s going to do my work at the bar?”

  “We can go another day. It’ll be rough, but we’ll manage.”

  “Wiseass.” She popped him in the forearm with a softly clenched fist. “Just tell me what the deal is with doing school-bus duty and I’ll leave you alone.”

  It wasn’t like ten other people wouldn’t tell her before he and Maddy Bainbridge ordered their first cup of coffee.

  “I don’t get it,” Claire said, shaking her head. “She’s not your type.”

  “She doesn’t have to be,” Aidan said, suddenly irritated. And what the hell was his type anyway. “We’re having coffee at Julie’s, not a three-way at the No-Tell.”

  Claire’s eyes almost popped from her head. “A three-way? Sweet Jesus! Did you ever—”

  “No,” he said, grinning. Then, “Did you?”

  She started laughing, then placed a hand over her swollen jaw. “You bastard. Don’t make me laugh when I’m in pain.” She met his eyes. “So why are you having coffee with Maddy? Are you looking for some of her mother’s secrets to success?”

  “Remember that rusty teapot I was bidding on?” He told her the whole story, about the auction, Maddy’s win, Kelly’s annoyance, his visit to Grandma Irene, then his discovery.

  “So you really think it might be the same teapot?”

  “Probably not, but it’s possible.”

  Claire shrugged. “Hope you don’t mind me asking, but so the hell what?”

  “You don’t think it would be pretty damn incredible to find something you lost almost fifty years ago?”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Claire’s expression darkened. “What is wrong with you anyway? When are you going to get it through your fat skull that nothing short of a visit from God Himself will change that old bat?”

  “It’s part of our family history.”

  “Bullshit. Since when did she ever share any of her family history with any of you? I’ve been around this crew a long time, brother-in-law, and I know that old bat hangs on to her secrets the same way she hangs on to her bank books.”

  “She had a tough life.”

  Claire’s tone was fierce. “Don’t start that crap again, please. I love you too much to fight over that bitch. I just wish she would die already and leave us all the hell alone.”

  “I didn’t want to get into this, Claire,” he said as calmly as he could manage. “You asked what was up and I told you.”

  Billy Jr. bounded into the room before she could respond. “I’m gonna be late,” he said, fidgeting like an over-caffeinated hummingbird with a buzz cut. “We better go.”

  Claire ran a hand over his shorn head, then pulled him close and kissed him. “Did you pee?” she asked.

  “Ma-a-a.”

  “Did you?”

  The kid flung down his book bag, then ran for the downstairs john off the laundry room.

  “Forgot how it used to be, didn’t you?” Claire said with a
sly look.

  “Jesus,” Aidan said, remembering the early days. “How did any of us survive?”

  “At least Kelly’s almost on her own. I still have a good twelve years ahead of me.”

  Aidan knew what she was going through. He knew it in his bones. There was a reason it took two to make a baby. Once the fun was over and the baby was actually there, it took at least that many hearts and hands to get the job done.

  His brother and Claire had been there for him from the start. After Sandy died, they had driven up to Pennsylvania where he sat, shocked into numbness, into immobility, into a grief so far beyond tears that it scared the hell out of everyone except for Kelly, his beautiful baby girl who depended on him for everything but the air she breathed.

  Billy and Claire cleaned them both, fed them, then bundled them up into their station wagon and drove them back down to New Jersey. When sorrow had him so deep in its grip that he couldn’t come up with a reason to face another day, it was Claire who had listened to him, held him, then finally told him it was time to get a grip because his baby girl needed him.

  And it was Claire who had picked up the slack when he was working double-shifts at the firehouse, taking Kelly to school and picking her up in the afternoon, helping her with her homework, listening to her prayers. He could never repay her for all she had done for them. The debt was incalculable.

  “Now can I go?” Billy Jr. demanded as he raced into the room for a second time.

  Claire helped him into his sweater, jacket, scarf, and mittens. He looked like one of those Teletubbies that had been popular a few years ago, but Aidan wisely kept that observation to himself. He hadn’t survived Kelly’s childhood without learning a few lessons.

  His sister-in-law turned to him and made a show of checking for scarf and mittens, much to Billy Jr.’s amusement. “New sweater?”

  He ignored the glint of mischief in her eyes. “Last Christmas,” he said. “You gave it to me.”

  She grinned. “Say hi to Maddy for me.”

  If Billy Jr. hadn’t been standing there, watching them like they were the Williams sisters and the front hallway was center court at Wimbledon, he might have said something memorable. As it was, he placed his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and said, “Let’s shove off, pal,” and pretended he didn’t hear Claire laughing.

  “FOR CRYING OUT loud,” Maddy protested after Denise feigned a swoon at the sight of her sleek black trousers and high-heeled boots. “Would you guys stop acting like you’ve never seen me out of jeans before? You’d think I showed up here in a prom dress, the way you’re all carrying on.”

  Gina pretended to wave smelling salts under Denise’s nose. “You clean up well, cuz,” she said with her usual wry delivery. She turned toward the other women huddled together on the street corner for warmth against the coming snowstorm. “Lipstick,” she stage-whispered. “And mascara.”

  “Mascara before eight in the morning?” Pat rolled her eyes as she gathered her coat tighter around her. “The last time I had mascara on at eight in the morning it was because I didn’t wash it off the night before.”

  Her remark was met with whoops of laughter.

  “If the kids weren’t around, I could tell you a few stories about—”

  “Shh!” Pat poked Delia in the ribs. “They’re listening.”

  The same children who had been happily annoying each other a few feet away were now solemnly—and quietly—listening to every word their mothers were saying.

  “So how about those Jets,” Gina said. “Think they’ll make it to the playoffs this year?”

  “You have to be so careful,” Maddy said. “The one thing you don’t want them to overhear—”

  “Yeah,” said Pat, “and what they don’t overhear, they make up and tell your mother.”

  Another outburst of early morning laughter.

  “Have you guys always had this much fun waiting for the school bus?” Maddy asked, trying not to let on that she’d noticed Aidan’s truck pulling into a spot half a block down from where they were standing.

  “Last year was terrible,” Gina said bluntly. “Maria Segretti and her mother were here every morning and every afternoon waiting for Maria’s spawn of Satan. I swear to God they carried tape recorders in the pockets of their stretch pants.”

  “I said three rosaries in thanks when they moved to Cherry Hill,” Delia said. “I thought we were going to have to start speaking in code.”

  “I remember Maria,” Maddy said with a grimace. “She’d break that code in three minutes, then publish the text in the Paradise Point Weekly Shopper.”

  “Honey, you don’t know the half of it,” Gina said. “When I was dating Aidan, I—”

  Another loud “Shh!” from Pat, who gestured over her shoulder.

  Maddy tried hard not to stare at her cousin. When I was dating Aidan . . .

  “Hoo boy!” Gina said with a loud wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, O’Malley.”

  “I’ll say!” Pat agreed. “You’re not half bad.”

  If there was anything still happening between her cousin and Aidan, they were pretty good at hiding it. Maddy didn’t detect any sexual current flowing between them. He bantered with Gina the same way he bantered with Pat and Denise and the other women waiting at the corner for the school bus. And Gina flirted with everyone. Men. Women. Small children. House pets.

  Whatever they’d had going between them had apparently been downgraded to a comfortable friendship.

  Unless, of course, they had spent the night together.

  Which, needless to say, wasn’t any business of Maddy’s. Her cousin was informally separated, and as far as she knew, Aidan O’Malley had never remarried.

  “Maddy.” Gina snapped her fingers in front of Maddy’s nose. “The man is talking to you.”

  She looked up at him. “You were?”

  “Yeah.” He was smiling, but uncertainty twitched at the corner of his mouth. Hmm. This was getting interesting, and interesting was the last thing she’d been expecting. He gestured toward the Macy’s shopping bag at her feet. “Is that it?”

  “Yep.” She inclined her head in the direction of Hannah. “Pictures.”

  He looked over at Hannah, then nodded. “I know the drill.”

  They locked eyes and it happened again. Everything else, her cousins, the kids, the wet and icy wind, it all dropped away as if it didn’t exist, and there was only the two of them standing there on the corner, smiling at each other as if they shared a big juicy secret.

  Which in a way they did, but it certainly wasn’t half as big or one-tenth as juicy as Gina, Denise, and the others were starting to think.

  “Don’t mean to interrupt,” Denise said, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but there’s a school bus about to run your asses over if you don’t move in the next ten seconds.”

  “Didn’t Maddy almost get run over yesterday afternoon?” Pat asked, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I think it was when she followed Aidan into the paper store.”

  “You’re right,” Gina said. She didn’t do as good a job with innocence, feigned or otherwise. “You’d think she had her mind on something else, wouldn’t you?”

  Maddy mumbled something in high school Spanish that made Aidan laugh out loud.

  The school bus rolled to a stop and pandemonium broke out as book bags, lunches, backpacks, permission slips, mittens, gloves, hats, scarves, and runaway caps were handed over, retrieved, signed, tucked into pockets, slung over tiny shoulders, pulled down over frozen ears. Except for Billy they were all still young enough to kiss goodbye in public without causing permanent damage to their reputations.

  “Be good,” Maddy whispered in Hannah’s ear. “Make sure you drink your milk. Don’t swap lunches with Greta. Grandma Rose made you peanut butter with chopped raisins and celery on that bread you liked so much last time.”

  Hannah’s eyes swam with tears, and Maddy was afraid her own eyes were welling up, too. “You’ll be home before you know it, honey.”


  Hannah nodded, then boarded the bus.

  “It gets easier,” Aidan said as the bus inched away from the curb. “I used to want to grab Kelly off the bus and take her back home with me.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  He shrugged. “I know the signs.”

  “You mean I’m going to make it to first grade?”

  He pretended to study her intently. “You might even make it to third.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “Well,” said Gina with a toss of her silky dark head, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have to get to work.”

  “Same here,” said Denise. “Four loads of laundry, the kitchen to clean, and a trip to the pediatrician.”

  “Add a post office run to your list and you’ll see how my day’s shaping up,” Pat chimed in.

  “Not me,” said Maddy, reaching for the shopping bag that held the samovar. “I think I’ll spend the morning drinking coffee at Julie’s.”

  “Sounds good,” said Aidan. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “SIT ANYWHERE, YOU guys,” Julie called out from behind the counter. “I’ll bring your coffees.”

  Two of Maddy’s former schoolmates were seated at the counter, perusing what looked like architectural diagrams. Kris and Jill looked up to see the identity of the new arrivals. Kris whispered something to Jill, who whispered something back.

  “Hey, Maddy!” Kris said. “Hey, Aidan!”

  “How’s it going?” Jill asked, her gaze darting from Aidan to Maddy and back again.

  Maddy waved hello. Aidan asked how the plans for the new house were going and laughed when the two women mimed sticking their heads in a matching pair of nooses.

  “They’re building a house?” Maddy asked as they made their way to the only empty booth.

  “Over by the lake,” he said.

  “Together?”

  “You didn’t know they were a couple?”

  “I’m really out of the loop, aren’t I?”