by Amy M. Reade
I headed back to Summerplace with lifted spirits. I felt somehow closer to Alex, and the feeling gave me the strength I would need to face Vali. Once back at the house, I spent the afternoon tidying up the library and starting a rudimentary system for categorizing the books in there.
At dinnertime, I went downstairs still feeling lighthearted over my small discovery at the leaning tree. I went in to see Alex before dinner and was very happy to learn that she planned to join us in the dining room. As always, she was dressed becomingly, complete with jewelry and low-heeled pumps.
I admired her outfit, and, looking pleased, she replied, “I didn’t want to dress up too much and feel foolish, but this is a special occasion, so I wanted to look nice. After all, that dining room hasn’t seen me in quite a long time!”
We walked into the dining room together. Stephan and Will were already there, as usual, talking. They came over to us immediately.
Stephan wore a wide smile as he pulled out the chair at the head of the table. “The seat of honor, madam,” he said laughingly. Will hooked Alex’s arm through his and walked slowly with her to her seat, a handsome picture of gallantry. And clearly Alex was enjoying the attention. A place had already been set for her at the dining room table, so Vali must have known that Alex would be dining with us.
And Vali outdid herself for the occasion. There were fruited Cornish game hens with sautéed vegetables, a mesclun salad with herbs and white wine vinaigrette, and a sublime pumpkin mousse. The four of us enjoyed the dinner thoroughly, and Alex’s presence seemed to bring out the conversationalists in Stephan and Will. They both talked animatedly throughout the meal, and I could almost forget—almost—Will’s previous behavior toward me.
I didn’t say much during the meal because I was so interested in listening to the conversation, but I did pipe up during dessert.
“I went for a lovely walk this afternoon in the woods behind Vali and Leland’s house,” I began. “The path ended at that really interesting tree that leans out over the water.”
I continued, taking only brief notice of the looks being exchanged among my fellow diners. “Alex, I found the initials ‘AH + FH’ carved into the trunk of the tree—I think that’s enchanting!” I gushed.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table like a wet blanket. I groaned inwardly. I had obviously said something wrong, but I had no idea what it was.
I was seated next to Stephan, who put his hand over mine on the table. “Macy,” he said quietly, his eyes on Alex, “the leaning tree is where the ashes of both Diana and Forrest were scattered after their deaths. So it’s a place of bittersweet memories for Alex.”
I gasped and turned to Alex. “I’m so sorry, Alex. Please forgive me. I had no idea . . .” I trailed off.
“Macy dear, there’s nothing to forgive. How could you have known the significance of that tree? You know, finding those initials must have been fun. That tree didn’t always represent sadness, you know.” She smiled, but her thoughts seemed far away. Now I understood why the ground beneath the tree was lightly worn; one or more people must visit that place to mourn Diana and Forrest.
I had ruined the dinner conversation with my faux pas, and Stephan tactfully brought the meal to a close. “Alex, I hate to bring up work, but would you mind terribly meeting with me for a few moments? There are some finer points in one of the negotiation documents that I’d like to discuss with you before tomorrow. Will, would you run upstairs and bring us the file, please?”
“Of course I don’t mind, Stephan,” Alex replied. She stood up and asked, “Macy, you’ll be in later to see me?”
I nodded mutely and she left with Stephan.
Will stood up to go after Stephan and Alex were gone. “Nice going. What did I tell you? You’re nothing but a reminder of her pain,” he said, shaking his head. I didn’t answer him and he left the room.
I didn’t go upstairs because I didn’t want to run into Will up there. I sat before the fire that was crackling in the living room, feeling sorry for myself once again. Leland poked his head in at one point, saw me, and left again. I was starting to feel totally alone here. How I wished I could talk to my parents.
Maybe I could. I could follow Alex’s lead and talk to them. Not out loud here in the living room, but in my head. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the comforting hisses and crackles coming from the fireplace.
In my mind, I went back to my childhood. It was nighttime, and my mother and father had come into my room to tuck me in. It had been a miserable day at school because I had inadvertently hurt my best friend’s feelings and she was upset. I remembered asking my parents what I should do to make her feel better. “It was an accident,” they had soothed. “You didn’t know you hurt her. You need to explain to her what happened, ask for her forgiveness, and then forgive yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, and very often forgiving yourself is the hardest thing to do. Even harder than asking forgiveness from someone else.” I remembered that night as if it were yesterday. I could recall how my mother smelled of violets, how my father’s face was scratchy as he leaned down to kiss me good night. Their words had been true that night, for I fell asleep peacefully and spoke with my friend the following day. She forgave me as soon as she heard my story, and all was well. I had learned an important lesson that night about allowing myself to make mistakes, and I was amazed that the scene had replayed so vividly in my mind just now when I needed it most. I had already asked Alex for forgiveness, and now I needed to work on forgiving myself. This experience had indeed been like talking to my parents, and I was filled with a sense of peace and stillness. I breathed a prayer of thanks for their wisdom and understanding, even these many weeks after their deaths. I was especially grateful to Alex for sharing with me her practice of talking to Forrest when she was alone.
I opened my eyes again to the fire blazing before me. I stood up, feeling better, and went to see Alex as I had promised. She was alone in her sitting room; Stephan and Will had left. I sat down next to her and we sat together in silence for quite some time. It didn’t seem awkward or uncomfortable, but I did break the silence after a while to speak to her.
“Alex, I had no idea that the leaning tree held such important significance to your family, and if I had known I certainly would have respected that.”
Alex remained silent for several more moments before she answered me. “This is the second time that you’ve felt like you’ve done something to upset me, but what you’ve really done is to bring back for me memories that are more precious than anything else. I can’t thank you enough. I am so grateful that you came here to remind me of these things.”
We talked companionably of insignificant things for a while longer before Alex went in to bed. I went upstairs, relieved that the evening had ended so well, but when I went into my room, I was met again with the shock of cold from the icy wind that blew through the broken window. I suppose I wasn’t really surprised that Leland hadn’t fixed the window. I ran downstairs, where I found a flimsy piece of cardboard and tape, then returned to my room and fashioned a makeshift window where the glass had been. It would do to keep out the worst of the wind, but it was still very cold. I vowed not to sleep again in the chair in the dressing room, so I undressed quickly, grabbed a heavy quilt from the bottom of the armoire, and jumped between the covers, pulling them up to my chin. If the space heater in the turret hadn’t been so heavy, I would have brought it down earlier in the day to use overnight.
I had the nightmare again that night—the sirens wailing, the police officers walking around the wreckage of the cars, and me sitting helpless on the hillside nearby. I woke up with my heart pounding but without tears this time. Thinking back to my “conversation” with my mother and father just a few hours earlier, I was strangely comforted. Perhaps the nightmare was losing its hold on me. I was able to calm my pounding heart, but it took me a long while to fall asleep again because of the frigid air still swirling around me. I finally dropped off, but not before promising
myself that if the door didn’t get fixed tomorrow I would sleep somewhere else.
When I went downstairs for breakfast the next morning, Vali informed me that I would be alone in the dining room since Stephan and Will had left for New York an hour earlier. I hadn’t known they were leaving, but I was pleased that Alex might have some extra time now to spend on her exercises and rehabilitation. I went in to see her after I had washed my breakfast dishes, and she was indeed relaxing, enjoying a news magazine in her sitting room.
“No work this morning?” I asked.
“Oh, I always have work to do, but Stephan and Will left early today. They have a meeting to attend, and they’ll be back in a couple of days. Since they’re gone I thought I would catch up on some reading before going into my office.”
“Would you like to work on some exercises before you get dressed?” I suggested.
“That would be fine, Macy. Then I can shower and dress afterward.”
We worked on her exercises for less than an hour. I didn’t want her to tire, especially because she had been worn out earlier in the week and because she had taken a short break from the exercises. She did well, though, and didn’t seem too tired when we finished. I told her I thought she should go outdoors later for a walk around Summerplace. She agreed and I left her to her shower.
When I walked into the foyer, Leland was clumping out the front door. I didn’t want to bother him any more than necessary, but I felt I could not spend another night in that icebox of a room.
“Leland,” I called after him, “were you able to find glass to replace that broken door in my room?”
He didn’t turn around. “Nope. Gotta go all the way to Cape Cartier to buy glass to replace what broke. Don’t know when I’ll get to it.” And he left.
I was feeling frustrated. I had to do something about that door. I could think of only one person to ask for help, so I walked down to the boathouse to look for him.
I found Pete wiping paint from his hands with rags that reeked of turpentine. The odor mingled with the smell of diesel from the boat engines and the tangy and unmistakable scent of the river water, which I was learning to recognize. It was not unpleasant.
“Morning,” Pete said when he saw me.
“Good morning. It looks like another beautiful day!” I responded.
“Enjoy the nice days while you can, because once it starts to get cold, it doesn’t stop. There’ll be snow on these islands before you know it.”
“Pete, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” I said tentatively.
“Sure, if I can,” he replied. “What do you need?”
“Well, the glass in one of the doors in my bedroom is broken, and Leland doesn’t seem to have the time to fix it. I wouldn’t pester you, but it’s so cold in there at night and . . .”
“And you want me to replace the glass,” he finished.
“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I think there’s some replacement glass in the storage rooms above the boathouse. Let’s go have a look, and if there’s some there, I can replace that for you this morning.”
I thanked him, relieved and hopeful that I might be sleeping in a warm room again tonight.
He led the way up the stairs inside the boathouse to the upper level, where his rooms and several storage rooms were located.
“Let me just run into the kitchen and wash this turpentine smell off my hands,” he said. He opened an old, thin wooden door and entered his apartment, waving me in behind him, and I stepped inside and found myself in a sparsely furnished, masculine apartment. The walls were all off-white, and an old, comfortable-looking sofa sat in the middle of the large open room. Pete had walked into the next room and he called to me from there, “Make yourself comfortable—I’ll just be a minute.”
I wandered over to the large windows, which gave the room a beautifully tranquil and ever-changing view of the water. After staring out the windows for a moment, I continued my self-guided tour around the room, walking over to have a look at some pictures I noticed grouped on one wall. They were all outdoor shots, and Pete was in most of them with other people whom I didn’t recognize: Pete with several men about the same age, each holding a fishing rod; a picture of a woman who looked to be in her sixties, probably Pete’s mother; a photo of a large group of people in graduation robes, Pete in the top row with a wide grin. There was also a picture of Pete with his arm around an attractive woman who appeared to be several years younger than him. The one photo without any people in it was a picture of one of the boats that was housed downstairs. I remembered that Pete had mentioned that he kept his own boat at Hallstead Island.
I sat down on the sofa to wait for him. He came out of the kitchen a moment later holding a cup of coffee. “Coffee?” he offered.
“Yes, thanks.”
He disappeared into the kitchen and then came to the doorway again. “Why don’t you come in here and get your own cream and sugar? I don’t know how you like it.”
I followed him into the small, neat kitchen. The walls were blue and everything else was white, from the appliances to the towels to the small table and chairs that stood in the middle of the room. I helped myself to the cream and sugar that he had placed on the table, and then he gestured toward my mug and said to me, “If you want to bring that along, we’ll go into one of the storerooms to look for that glass.”
I followed him out of the apartment and down a short, dimly lit hallway that ended in a huge room filled with all kinds of boating equipment and various unidentifiable pieces of small machinery, likely for use on boats or around the island. There were several smaller rooms off the big one, and I followed him into one that was filled with cans of paint, outdoor painting supplies, and cleaning equipment. “Not in here,” Pete mused aloud. He went into another small room, and there we found several pieces of glass leaning against one another in a metal contraption. Each pane of glass was buffered by a large chamois cloth. He went to a cupboard that hung on the wall and took down a sheet of paper. After scanning the paper for a few moments, he turned to me and said, “We’ve got one that’ll fit in your door. It’s right over here.” He quickly found the pane of glass we needed, and, very carefully, he eased it out from between two other panes. He slid the glass, still covered with its protective cloth, over to a bare wall and leaned it there. Then he said, “If you can carry my tools up to the house, I can put it in your door today. Otherwise, I can get Leland to do it.”
“I can help,” I said eagerly. I didn’t want this job left up to Leland or it might never get done. I put my coffee cup down and joined Pete. He disappeared for just a moment and came back with a pair of gloves.
He gingerly picked up the glass and headed downstairs. I followed with his toolbox. Once downstairs, we made our way carefully out of the boathouse and up through the trees to Summerplace. In my room, Pete set the glass against the wall, I handed him the toolbox, and he went to work. I stayed in case he needed any help.
As it turned out, he needed my help only to maneuver the glass into the correct position to install. I mostly watched him. He worked intently, stopping only now and then to stand back and look at his work. When he was satisfied, he put his tools away and said to me, “There you go. You ought to be a lot warmer in here tonight. Why did you stay in here last night?”
“I don’t think I even realized that it would get as cold as it did. And with the air seeping in around the cardboard, I wasn’t sure I could build a fire in the fireplace. Plus, I felt a little uncomfortable sleeping in the living room.”
“How did the glass break in the first place?” he asked.
I had been waiting for this question. “Someone threw a rock through the glass a couple of nights ago,” I explained lightly.
Pete looked shocked. “Who would have done that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Have you told Alex?”
“No,” I replied quickly. “I don’t want Alex to know. I
don’t want to upset her.”
He was silent for a minute and I continued, “She’s been very busy, and earlier in the week she was under the weather, and I know she has a lot on her mind with her work. I don’t think this incident needs to be on her radar just now. After all, my job here is to make her life easier, not more complicated.” I smiled. “Besides, now that the glass is fixed, the whole thing is over.” But not forgotten, I thought.
“I hope so,” Pete agreed.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said. “Leland thought he had to go to Cape Cartier to get new glass, and he didn’t have the time to do that. He must not have known that there was glass stored above the boathouse.”
Pete looked grim. “He knew. He just didn’t want to do it. Remember I told you to expect some hassle from Vali and Leland? That’s exactly the sort of thing I was talking about.”
“Oh, I’ve experienced some of that,” I told him. “You were right; they don’t seem to want me here. But I’ve explained to Vali that I have a job to do and I intend to do it.”
“That’s the spirit.” Pete nodded approvingly. “As hard as it is to do, just try to ignore them.”
I laughed. “I’ve heard that before.”
Pete picked up his tools and looked around my room. “Anything else need fixing?”
“No, thanks. Just the door. I’ll definitely sleep better tonight,” I said gratefully.
“You get a great view from this room,” Pete noted, looking out the French doors. He certainly was more talkative, even friendly, today.
“It’s beautiful,” I agreed warmly. “Looking out over those trees is calming and energizing at the same time.”
