Firefly Nights

by Katie Winters

  “Why did you love him, Mom?” she whispered, tilting her head back. She spoke to the sky, but it said nothing back. She’d heard from others who had lost their mothers that speaking to the heavens helped them; it gave them some kind of peace. She had never been able to find that kind of peace. She’d never really heard her mother answer back.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, Christine banged her fist again on the outside screen door so hard that the thicker, main door creaked open. Of course, so far from anyone else, Stan hadn’t locked his door. Christine’s heart thudded in her chest so hard she thought it would burst through her ribcage. Did she have it in her to go inside, to wait for him to arrive? She imagined herself seated at his kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in front of her. She imagined what she might say and how startled he would be.

  “You thought you would get away with it, didn’t you? You thought you would never have to pay for what you did to us.”

  Christine’s phone buzzed. She’d hardly imagined she would have service so far out there, and the sound of it shocked her. She glanced down to see Susan’s name.

  “Hey, Susan. What’s up? How’s Boston?” she asked. She placed a hand on her hip. She felt as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have, as though Susan could fully see her and what she was up to.

  “We’re actually on the ferry on our way back,” Susan said.

  “Oh! What a surprise,” Christine said. She struggled to brighten her voice. “Maybe we can order a pizza or something and you can tell us what happened. Sounds like you’re getting closer and closer to Chuck.”

  “Yeah. Pizza sounds good,” Susan said. Her words crackled. “Actually, I just want everyone to be back at the house as soon as possible. Scott and I have something to tell everyone.”

  “Oh, my God. Are you pregnant, too?” Christine asked, letting out a laugh knowing full well how much of a joke that was meant to be.

  Susan was quiet for a long time. At first, Christine’s heart seized. At forty-four, it wasn’t completely outside the bounds of reason, right?

  “Haha. No, I’m not,” Susan finally said. “Just say you’ll be there when we get back.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  Christine blinked into Stan’s house as she placed the phone back in her purse. Again, it felt as though the universe had shifted around her. This—whatever this was felt totally frivolous. She turned and fled and smashed her foot on the gas, no longer going the recommended five miles per hour. Whatever Susan was about to tell them, it wasn’t good.

  Christine could feel it in her bones.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Back at the house, Audrey and Lola sat and swung on the porch swing, while Wes studied his glass of wine with somber eyes. The old radio near the door crackled songs from long-ago summers. When Christine walked out onto the porch, nobody’s eyes looked toward her. Everyone simmered with their own internal thoughts and problems.

  “Did she tell you anything about what it might be?” Christine finally tried.

  Lola clicked her head left, then right, almost robotically. “Nope. But she sounded... bad.”

  “I know. She hasn’t sounded like herself in a few weeks,” Christine said.

  Lola scrubbed her fingers over her eyes, rose, and poured herself and Christine both healthy glasses of wine. Audrey moaned and placed her hands over her stomach.

  “Are you okay?” Christine asked.

  “I thought I had avoided morning sickness, but it just kind of happens whenever it wants right now,” Audrey murmured.

  Christine placed her hand on Wes’s shoulder and said, “Hey, Dad. How are you feeling?”

  Wes gave her a sad smile and said, “I just want to find out what’s wrong. The waiting is always the worst part.”

  “Maybe it really is about Chuck,” Christine tried. “Susan’s been hard at work trying to crack where that guy ran off to. I don’t think we should jump to conclusions, though.”

  Scott’s truck creaked into the driveway on the other side of the house. Everyone froze. Christine watched the inside of the house as first Scott entered, then Susan. Both carried pizza boxes, enough to feed a huge family. It was a common thing in any family to overcompensate when things went wrong.

  The screen door slammed behind them as they joined the others on the porch. Susan and Scott placed the pizza boxes on the picnic table, as Susan tried on a fake smile.

  “Hey, everyone,” she said, giving them her best smile.

  “Hey, Aunt Susie,” Audrey said.

  “You’re looking a little green,” Susan said, her brow furrowed.

  “It’s just the baby,” Audrey said. “It’s clearing up, though. I bet I’ll be hungrier than ever in a few minutes. That seems to be the rhythm.”

  Susan tried on a laugh. Lola cleared her throat and shifted in the porch swing, gesturing for Susan to sit. Susan shook her head and said, “Actually, I would prefer to stand, if that’s okay.”

  Christine glanced again at Scott. To her surprise, he looked absolutely downtrodden, like a dog left out in the rain. Christine’s heart sank. Something was really wrong.

  “We actually went up to Boston to receive the results of a test I took a few weeks ago,” Susan said suddenly.

  “What kind of test?” Lola demanded.

  Scott placed his hand on Susan’s shoulder. Christine cupped both elbows with her hands as she started to shake. She hadn’t been in this kind of conversation since Wes had told them about their mother. It felt like having your insides mashed up with a meat grinder.

  “I thought maybe I could get away without saying anything,” Susan continued. “Around the time of the divorce, I had minor surgery for stage II breast cancer. They thought they got everything. I came back to the Vineyard with the idea that I could begin a new life here, without the drama and the medical ailments of my past. But it seems like I haven’t escaped it fully. The cancer has moved to stage III, and they want me to start chemotherapy as soon as possible.”

  Lola’s jaw dropped. Silence filled the porch as Susan scrunched her eyes together. To Christine, receiving the news felt like getting hit by a car. The impact sent wave after wave of pain across her stomach, her heart and her head.

  “Wait. I don’t understand,” Lola said. Her voice was edged with anger. “You hid this from us all this time? During this time, when we promised, there would be no more secrets between us? After learning about how Mom really died?”

  Wes let out a horrible sob, the kind only an older man could: one that filled everyone else with endless sorrow because there was nothing to be done.

  Christine interjected, “Lola, stop! You can’t blame her for that. We only just all came back to the Vineyard. I’m sure it’s been a difficult thing to wage...”

  Even as she heard herself speak, Christine hardly understood anything about this at all. Now, everything clicked into place like puzzle pieces in their father’s puzzle. The medical marijuana. Of course. Susan Sheridan wouldn’t have been the type of woman to start smoking weed in her forties.

  Christine should have known something was really off. It had been right there in front of her. Maybe she’d been too selfish about her own career, the loss of Chez Frank and her strange, newfound love for Zach to take any notice.

  Wes pressed both his hands to his cheeks. His shoulders shook. Immediately, Christine rushed toward him and wrapped her arms around him. As the world shifted around him, as his memory crumbled, more and more horrors made themselves known. He shook and cried as Christine held him and felt her own tears roll down her cheeks.

  Audrey gripped her stomach with one hand, her mouth with her other, and fumbled off the porch. Christine thought she might throw up, too, watching her. Lola stood slowly, making the porch swing creak back and forth behind her. Her blue eyes looked enormous and volatile.

  “I’m sorry, Lola. I really thought I was in the clear. I thought I was going to be okay,” Susan murmured.

  Susan’s voice broke and wavered. Th
is was their big sister, the woman they’d both looked up to throughout their entire lives, even from afar—breaking down in front of them. Christine, who had never been the one anyone could ever lean on, not in any context, kept her hand on her father’s back and wrapped Susan in a huge bear hug with the other.

  “It’s going to be okay, Susan,” she said. “We’ve got this.” To her ears, she sounded much more like Anna than herself. “Seriously. You’re the strongest woman that any of us know. This is just another hiccup. You fought through all the other battles of the past few years. Why not this, too?”

  Through tears, Susan started to laugh. The sound was a huge surprise, and Christine ducked back to look at her. Had she lost her mind? But instead, through a sad smile, Susan said, “I’ve never heard you like this before, Christine.”

  Christine rolled her eyes. Devastation hollowed itself in every area of her body as she held her sister closer than ever. “I don’t know why we have to take this opportunity to pinpoint just how dead inside I’ve been all my life.”

  Lola laughed now, too. “Look at you! Christine! Susan!” She rushed to them and wrapped her arms around them, too. “Susie, I’m so sorry I was angry. I’m not, really. I’m just shocked and scared. But Susie, we’re going to get you through this, the way we’ve gotten through everything else.” Her eyes peered across their hug, latching on Wes. “Don’t you think so, Dad?”

  Slowly, Wes removed his hands from his eyes and turned toward them. He looked strange, his skin grey, but he managed a smile. “You girls are stronger than Anna and I ever were. You’ve seen things, created lives for yourselves, and still, you have each other, here.” He glanced toward Scott, who looked on the verge of losing it. “Me and Scott are the luckiest men alive to be in your presence right now.”

  Scott walked over to Wes and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You got that right.” he said as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

  Exhausted, the Sheridan sisters, Scott, and Wes sat down several minutes later to nibble at the once-forgotten pizza. Throughout the meal, Susan tried her best to explain some of the other things her doctor had told her. The survival rate was okay: not the kind of number to write home about, exactly, but decent enough. She also explained that chemotherapy could happen right there on the island, which meant that the sisters could help her to and from. Scott would also always be around for any support.

  “Imagine me trying to put this burden on my children,” Susan said. “Jake’s all bogged down with the twins, and Amanda is in the middle of her internship and also planning her wedding.”

  “They would have done anything for you, and you know it,” Lola said. “Don’t be silly. But we’re happy to help out here. Heck. I’d say the only real issue we have right now is the lack of space in this place.”

  Scott cleared his throat and smeared his napkin across his lips. “I’m going to start on a project right away.” He pointed toward the wall alongside the kitchen and dining area and said, “That whole space over there. I want to extend it out and make two more bedrooms. It shouldn’t take too long if I hire a few contractors to help me. It’s the kind of thing I used to do all the time, years ago when I did Frampton Freight alongside a bit of building work.”

  “That’s right. I hired you to fix up part of the Inn years ago when that hurricane hit part of the bistro,” Wes affirmed.

  Again, Christine and Susan locked eyes, shocked at Wes’s memory.

  “You did a swell job, Scott,” Wes said. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to touch my beautiful house but you.”

  “There’s no telling how long all of us will be here, but I want to make sure it’s cozy enough for all of you,” Scott said. “Just three bedrooms upstairs isn’t cutting it.”

  “You’re telling me,” Audrey said as she swung out from the main house. Her eyes were tinged with red, and her cheeks looked hollowed out. She stepped toward Susan and dropped down to hug her. She seemed unable to muster any words.

  “Come on, Audrey. It hasn’t been so bad sharing a room with your old Mom, has it?” Lola laughed.

  Audrey rolled her eyes. “We went from having no family to us all living on top of each other. What a sitcom.” She grabbed a slice of pizza and splayed it across an old plate, one Christine recognized from her girlhood. She then sat next to Christine and placed her head against her shoulder. “I’m glad we have each other. Let’s keep it that way.”

  The words nearly made Christine’s heart explode.

  That night, Susan decided to head to Scott’s to sleep, while Christine, Lola, and Audrey sat out on the porch and stared at the water, all dumbfounded. A bit awkwardly, Lola tried to talk to Audrey about elements of the current story she wrote about another Boston socialite; Audrey had her own opinions about how she should tackle the interview, which Lola seemed to listen to with curiosity and respect, despite her years in the business.

  Christine’s phone buzzed to reveal a text from Zach.

  ZACH WALTERS: Hey. Sorry about earlier today. Do you mind if I call you to explain it?

  With all the commotion of the previous hours, the Zach drama felt like it had happened a million years ago. Remy, the girl from his apparently not-so-long-ago past, had been lurking around his house on his day off and had been crying when Christine had arrived. Remy, who seemed, in nearly every way, to be better than Christine for the likes of Zach.

  After all, Christine had spent the past twenty-odd years hating Zach Walters. She could go back to a mild level of distaste, especially since she planned to remain on the island to care for her sister.

  CHRISTINE: Naw, it’s cool. I shouldn’t have stopped by like that. I have a little bit of a family crisis going on at the moment and need to take the next few days off. I hope that’s okay.

  Lola arched her brow as Christine set her phone back down. “What was that about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You looked like you just had to make some kind of gut-wrenching decision,” Lola said with a laugh.

  “What? No,” Christine said, furrowing her brow.

  “I’m your sister. I can sense it,” Lola said.

  “Naw. Just asking for a few days off from work, so I can focus on family,” Christine said. “I don’t think I can manage to fold up another croissant for another hungry tourist right now.”

  “Fair enough,” Lola said.

  ZACH WALTERS: Ok. I hope everything’s okay? Please, let me know if there’s anything I can do.

  This was Vineyard neighborly kindness and nothing more. Christine knew this. She pressed the “END” button and let her phone fade to black. Zach Walters and the rest of the world could wait.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Susan’s first chemotherapy session began at 2:30 in the afternoon on the following Monday. On the drive to the hospital, Lola drove, Susan sat in the passenger seat, and Christine sat in the back, her eyes scanning the thick line of trees and spotting shadows from birds that flew high in the sky. When they reached the hospital, Lola turned down the radio and glanced at Susan.

  “Are you ready?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Susan announced.

  As they entered the cancer wing, Susan texted something to Amanda and Jake, who she’d told about the cancer three days before. Apparently, Amanda had nearly quit her internship on the spot in order to come care for her mom, but Susan had insisted she stay.

  “She’s still threatening to come here,” Susan said, stalling in the lobby of the cancer wing. “But what would she do here? She would just sit around and be worried about me. I couldn’t handle that.”

  “She just loves you,” Lola said, sliding her hand up and down Susan’s arm. “And she’s so much like you. She just wants to make sure everyone is okay all the time.”

  At the front desk, Susan collected a clipboard and filled out her information, while Lola and Christine made light chitchat with the receptionist, whom they had gone to school with. When they finally retreated, Lola muttered in Christi
ne’s ear, “I never liked her. Of course, she works here. She likes to see everyone on their worst day.”

  “What did you say? I couldn’t hear it,” Susan said with a smile.

  “Nothing,” Lola said.

  “She’s just being difficult as always,” Christine said, trying the joke.

  “Isn’t that your thing, Christine?” Lola asked.

  The receptionist placed her finger over her lips and shushed them, which cast all three of them into reckless giggles. Christine had always marveled about this: during some of the bigger days of her life, funerals and weddings and anything else, when emotions were heightened, the laughter came easier, regardless of how sad it all was.

  When Susan was called in for chemo, Lola and Christine stepped out onto the back porch of the hospital, which looked out over some of the docks that held tourist yachts, sailboats, and even a few fishing boats from the locals. Lola grabbed her elbows, anxious, and said, “I just don’t know what to do with myself while she’s in there.”

  “It’s surreal, isn’t it?” Christine murmured. She dropped her purse to the ground and stretched out her arms, touching her toes. As she lingered down there, Lola let out a strange, shocking noise.

  “What’s wrong?” Christine asked, lifting her head ever so slightly.

  “I see him.”

  “Who?” Christine demanded.

  “Stan. Ellis,” Lola said. “He’s always everywhere, isn’t he? He’s our stupid rat. We can’t get rid of him.”

  Christine hadn’t bothered to inform her sisters that she had actually gone to Stan’s house.

  She stood and followed Lola’s gaze out across the docks, toward a gorgeous sailboat. Stan Ellis stood with his hands on his hips, speaking to a man who seemed to be approximately six-foot-five, a half-foot taller than Stan, with broad shoulders and dark, curly hair, the kind that was taken directly from a romance novel.