by Nancy Thayer
Sebastian stopped the Jeep near the lighthouse. Only a few yards away, scores of harbor seals lounged on the sand.
Maddox giggled as they stepped out onto the beach. “I want to pet one,” he told his daddy.
“Darling, they bite,” Nicole warned. “You can’t go near them. They’re wild creatures.”
They strolled the beach, picking up shells, staying far away from the winter waves crashing on the shore. Nearby, a clan of the larger horsehead seals bobbed in the water like a gang of curious wet gorillas. James lifted Maddox up on his shoulders so the boy could see a fishing boat anchored in the distance, among the white-capped waves.
“I’m hungry!” Maddox declared.
“Then let’s eat,” Nicole replied easily.
Sitting on a picnic blanket, they munched lunch while watching the seals, who muttered and oinked like sea pigs. At one point, two seals got into a snorting argument, a comic scene that made everyone laugh.
After lunch, they walked through the dunes up to the sixty-foot-high, whitewashed stone lighthouse. They returned to the Jeep and bumped back down the sand to the area called Coskata, where to Maddox’s great delight, they spotted a snowy owl, pristine white and immensely arrogant, seated on a scrub oak. They tromped through a wooded glade to find Nicole’s favorite tree, an ancient beech with arms stretching out like elephants’ trunks. It was perfect for climbing, so Maddox scrambled up onto one of the lower branches, and Sebastian took his photo. They continued on the narrow path until they arrived at a pond where a white heron stalked among the marshy grasses. Maddox helped Nicole fill a bucket with mussels they picked from the shoreline and they scampered about on a fallen tree trunk. Sebastian led them to a midden, a gathering of broken shells left from a long-ago Native American tribe. He told Maddox about how the early Americans had lived here, eating fish and berries, drinking water from the ponds, covered with goose grease in the summer to protect them from mosquito bites. Maddox’s eyes went wide with amazement.
In the late afternoon, when the sun was beginning to set, Sebastian steered the SUV off the sand and onto the paved road leading back to town. He yawned. Beside him, in the passenger seat, James yawned. In the backseat, both Nicole and Maddox caught the contagious reflex and yawned so hard they squeaked.
“Close your eyes,” Nicole urged Maddox. “Take a nap.”
The boy didn’t need to be invited twice. He sagged into his rented car seat and was immediately asleep.
So much fresh air and exercise. Nicole leaned her head back against the seat and closed her own eyes, congratulating herself for having prepared a casserole for their dinner tonight. She’d steam the mussels for a first course with melted butter, but that would take only a few minutes. She hoped Kennedy had had a restful day and would be pleased by Nicole’s efforts.
Sebastian brought the Jeep to a stop by the two air pumps stationed by the side of the road just past the Trustees of Reservations cabin. He took the tire pressure gauge out of the glove compartment. Air had to be let out of the tires for easy driving on the sand, and Maddox had been fascinated by the way his grandfather made the air hiss out by pressing a rock on the valve stem. Nicole wasn’t surprised when Maddox sprang awake from his light doze.
“Want to help me put the air back in?” Sebastian asked his grandson.
Maddox eagerly unfastened his seat belt and jumped out of the car. James filled the tires on the right side, Sebastian and Maddox took the ones on the left. Then they buckled up and drove away toward town.
Back at the house, Nicole was delighted to discover Kennedy with rosy cheeks and bright eyes.
“Thank you, Daddy.” Kennedy waddled up to Sebastian and gave him a hug. “I had the best rest I’ve had in weeks.”
Nicole waited for Kennedy to thank her, too. Instead, Kennedy squatted down, bracing herself with one hand on a wall, to hug Maddox.
“Did you have fun, honey-bunny?”
“Mommy, I saw seals! And a rabbit! And an owl! And I put air in a tire!” Maddox was almost stammering with excitement.
“Tell me all about it in the bath,” Kennedy suggested. She held out a hand and her husband hoisted her to her feet. “I’ll take Maddox up for a nice long bath. You guys can enjoy drinks before dinner.”
With her son yammering away, Kennedy slowly went up the stairs.
Nicole carried the bucket of mussels into the kitchen, trying not to mind that Kennedy had not even bothered to say hello to her. She set the bucket in the sink, washed her hands, and went into the living room to gather up the plate of cookies and the hot chocolate. The cookies, she noticed, had disappeared. The magazines were scattered over the floor. The blanket was balled up, hanging half over the arm of the sofa. Crumbs littered the sofa and the carpet, as well as a used napkin and a few used tissues.
At the sight of the tissues wadded up on the floor, Nicole sat down with a sigh and took a moment to compose herself.
Really? she thought. Did Kennedy expect Nicole not only to provide all the meals and snacks, but also to pick up after her like a servant? True, Kennedy was bulky with her pregnancy, but she was standing up when they arrived home. Surely Kennedy could have carried her used tissues into the waste basket in the bathroom. Sebastian had told Nicole what a neat freak Katya was, and Nicole was certain Katya had passed along her tidiness to Kennedy, so this clutter Kennedy had left was more than a mess—it was a message.
I don’t like you, and I never will. Was that the point of the lumpy tissues, the strewn magazines? What on earth had Nicole done to warrant such animosity? She knew Kennedy wanted her parents to get back together, but Kennedy was not demented, she had to realize her mother had been hooked up with the gorgeous Alonzo for years.
Nicole gathered up the magazines and patted them into a neat pile on the coffee table. With thumb and forefinger, she pinched up the used tissues and napkin and dropped them on the tray next to the empty cookie plate, mug, and pot. Nicole was slow to anger, but she was on her way now. She took a moment to feast her eyes on the Christmas tree, trying to absorb its gleaming serenity into her mood.
She had never had children, but she believed that if Kennedy were her child, she would confront her. She would scold her. At the least, she would force Kennedy to recognize her existence and her attempts to make this a pleasant holiday for everyone.
Sebastian stuck his head into the room. “James and I are going to have a drink. Could I fix you one?”
Nicole relaxed her gritted teeth. “A glass of red wine would be excellent right now,” she replied. Perhaps that would calm her down, put her back in the Christmas spirit, and prevent her from doing or saying something she would later regret.
11
Maddox woke early, as he always did. He played with the cool toys in his room as quietly as he could, because his mommy needed her sleep for the baby. He looked at the picture books. He stood at the window staring out at Granddad’s backyard. It was kind of interesting, with its toolshed and wooden picnic table and benches. If he tipped over the benches, and maybe if he could find a big cardboard box, he could make a fort like his friend Jeremy had. Cool!
He trotted out of his room, down the stairs, through the hall to the kitchen and the mudroom with the back door.
“Going somewhere, sport?” Granddad sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.
Nicole was at the other end of the table, drinking coffee and making a list on a pad of paper. They were both wearing pajamas, robes, and furry slippers.
Maddox requested, politely, “May I please play in the backyard?”
“I don’t see why not,” Granddad answered.
“Hang on,” said Nicole. “You need to get dressed first, Maddox. You’ll freeze in your pajamas. Have you been to the bathroom yet?”
Maddox slumped. He’d thought Nicole was different, but she was just like the other adults, full of rules.
Nicole rose from the table and held out her hand. “Let me help you get dressed. I’ll pick out your warme
st pants.”
Maddox stared at the door to the room where his mommy and daddy slept.
“We won’t wake your parents,” Nicole whispered. “We’ll be quiet as two little mice.”
She was as good as her word. She tiptoed with Maddox up the stairs. They didn’t speak as she helped him dress and use the bathroom. They went like pirates back down the stairs, and no one woke up.
In the kitchen, Nicole asked, “Want some breakfast before you go outside, Maddox?”
“No, thank you. I want to make a fort out of the picnic table and benches.” He thought he might as well just come out with the truth in case they didn’t like that sort of thing, their yard getting all messed up.
Nicole surprised him. “Good idea. We’ve got some folding lawn chairs in the shed that will make a good doorway on the ends. I’ll get them out for you after I get dressed.”
Maddox eyed her skeptically. He wasn’t sure about those lawn chairs. He wasn’t sure he wanted his idea tampered with.
“Boots,” Nicole said. “Coat, cap, and mittens.” She retrieved the items from the hooks in the mudroom and put them on Maddox, a cumbersome process he hated. He was never cold and the extra padding made it harder to move. But he allowed himself to be yanked, tugged, and zipped, because he understood the adults were right.
Finally, Nicole unlocked the back door. Maddox stepped onto the back porch.
“Stay in the backyard, now, Maddox,” Nicole warned. “Don’t go away, promise?”
“I promise.”
The back porch was like a room without walls. It had a swing hanging from the ceiling, and a wicker sofa and two wicker armchairs. The wide steps going down had railings on each side. Maddox hung on to them as he went, his slightly-too-big boots hampering him, making him clumsy.
The backyard was bordered by a fence and also by hedges with stubborn green-brown leaves hanging on to the brown twiggy branches. He could see where flowers had been in the summer, because the beds were edged with shells. A white birdbath stood at the other end of the yard. He ran through the brown grass to check—it had water in it, and a black feather. He picked out the feather and put it in his pocket. Returning to the flower beds bordering the lawn, he spent some time checking out the shells. Most were white, with pale purple streaks on the inside. Some had tips sharp enough to cut, others were rolled up like burritos. Here and there green or blue sea glass twinkled, edges smoothed to satin by the ocean waves.
A hawthorn tree grew at the end of the garden. It had a few red berries left. Nicole told him the birds liked the berries, so he liked the tree, even though its thorns made it impossible to climb.
It was cold out. He looked up and up, at the sky. It was white, heavy, and damp-looking, like a wet pillow. Maybe it would snow. He hoped so. His mommy said he’d seen snow before, but he couldn’t remember. If it did snow, his fort would be a perfect place to keep warm, so he stomped over to the picnic table and benches.
It took him a few tries to wrestle the bench over so it was lying on its side, legs sticking out, the long flat seat side acting like a wall. He stomped around to the other side and struggled to tip the other bench over. Finally he succeeded. He went to one end of the table and crawled under.
It wasn’t much of a fort. The seats of the benches didn’t come all the way up to the table top, so a long space was exposed on each side. The dry grass was crackly. He sat for a moment, considering what kind of fort it should be. Pirate? Spaceship? Indian?
A door opened. Nicole stepped out onto the porch, wearing a navy blue sweater with ice-skating penguins slipping and twirling all over it. The sweater made him laugh.
“Penguins don’t ice-skate!” he called.
Nicole came down the steps. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure.” She headed toward the shed at the back of the garden and yanked the door open. “Let’s see what we’ve got for you.”
Maddox raced over to peer inside the dark enclosure. Reaching up, Nicole pulled a chain, and a light came on, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The building was wonderful, with a slate floor, high work benches along two walls, shelves along the third, and yard implements leaning on the fourth. He saw rakes, a lawn mower, shovels, saws. Coiled onto a special rack was a green garden hose. Pots, paint cans, and other containers sat on the shelves. Above them, outlined in white chalk, were the tools: hammers, pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers. He wanted to get them down and do something.
Nicole said, “Look, here: the folding lawn chairs I told you about. See?” Picking up an aluminum chair with webbed seat and back, she opened it, and turned it sideways, to display how it could be used as a wall.
Maddox nodded. “Cool.”
“Shall we take them out?”
Maddox nodded again.
Nicole hoisted two chairs, one under each arm. Maddox took a third chair, which was surprisingly lightweight, holding it as well as he could in front of him, following Nicole back to the picnic table. Returning to the shed, Nicole reached up to lift a couple of fat vinyl cushions from a shelf.
“These might be good as seats in your fort,” she told him.
Maddox grinned. “Oh, yeah.”
She tossed him one and carried two out herself. She dropped them outside the fort, seeming to understand how private the enterprise was to him. He wanted to arrange things himself, even if it took him time and struggle.
Back in the shed, Nicole stood with her hands on her hips and scanned the walls. “Let’s see. What else?” Cocking her head, she suggested, “What about these?”
She handed him a pair of field glasses. Puzzled, he turned them around in his hands. Nicole knelt down and demonstrated how to use them. She helped him turn the round knob until the view went clear.
Maddox was speechless. This was the most excellent fort toy he had ever seen. He raced away, binoculars in hand, ready to enter his fantasy world.
12
Nicole returned to the kitchen, shivering slightly. She’d gone out to the shed without a coat or hat and the day was frosty.
Sebastian rose from the table. “I’ll get shaved and dressed and bring in more firewood.” He smacked a kiss on her lips.
Nicole poured her second cup of coffee and stood at the window, keeping an eye on Maddox as he dragged a floral cushion from the shed to his fort. Hearing a shuffling noise, she turned to see Kennedy coming into the kitchen, wrapped in a puffy pink robe that couldn’t quite close over her belly.
“Good morning, Kennedy,” Nicole said brightly.
Kennedy collapsed in a chair. “I hope you’ve got bacon and eggs for breakfast. I’m starved.”
Nicole stared. She counted to ten. She recalled her years on the wards as a nurse, when patients were too ill to be polite, unable to do more than mumble. Kennedy was only pregnant, not sick, but still, this was a state Nicole had never endured, so she decided to be kind.
“I’ll be glad to make you some, Kennedy,” Nicole offered.
Kennedy buried her face in her hands.
Alarmed, Nicole came closer to the table. “Kennedy, do you feel all right?”
Kennedy didn’t raise her head. “I told you. I’m hungry.”
Without another word, Nicole set about microwaving bacon and scrambling eggs. She shaved slivers of cheddar into the eggs and added a pinch of basil. She squeezed oranges and set a fresh glass of juice in front of Kennedy. She placed a napkin and utensils near Kennedy’s place.
She had to admit, Kennedy had stamina. Nicole could never sit in steaming silence while another woman cooked for her.
Gosh. Maybe Kennedy was truly ill. Worry spurted into Nicole’s chest.
“Good morning, gorgeous!” James came out of the guest bedroom, smelling of soap and aftershave. “Morning, Nicole.”
“Hi, James. Would you like some eggs and bacon? I’m fixing some for Kennedy.”
To Nicole’s delighted surprise, James gave her a quick one-armed hug. “The answer is yes.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Where’s Wonder Boy?”
&n
bsp; “Look out the window.”
“Ha! A fort! I remember building one like that as a boy. Is it okay with you that he’s creating havoc in your yard?”
“Of course. He’s having fun.”
“Where’s Sebastian?” asked James.
“Right here.” Sebastian came into the kitchen, fully dressed. “Hi, James. Hey, Kabey.” He used his old pet name for his daughter.
Kennedy lifted a beaming face to her father. “Hi, Daddy.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like a wheelbarrow full of potatoes,” Kennedy told her father.
“You don’t look it,” Sebastian lied, sitting down next to her.
Nicole placed the plate of eggs and bacon in front of Kennedy.
Kennedy stared ruefully down at the food. “Mommy always used to serve such healthy meals,” she said mournfully. “Fruit for breakfast, with granola and raisins and dried cranberries.”
Nicole stood very still. Her mind raced. Why was Kennedy so obviously setting her up? Kennedy had asked for bacon and eggs, and now that she had them, she wanted fruit and granola? Food was not the issue here, clearly. Nicole would not rise to the bait.
Forcing a smile, Nicole asked, “Kennedy, would you prefer fruit and granola? We have both.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Kennedy pouted.
“No trouble at all,” Nicole purred. Reaching out, she moved the plate of bacon and eggs from Kennedy’s spot to James’s. “Here, James, why don’t you have these?”
“Great, thanks.” James picked up his knife and fork.
Smoothly but quickly, like Martha Stewart on ice skates, Nicole took out a bowl, a box of granola, and a spoon. She set them before Kennedy. She poured skim milk into a pitcher and set it next to the bowl.
Plucking a banana from the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, Nicole extended it to Kennedy. “Would you like to slice this onto your granola?” Round one to me, Nicole thought.
Kennedy nearly quivered with stifled indignation. Her eyes slid over to her husband, happily stuffing the rich creamy eggs into his mouth.
