by Amy M. Reade
Pete seemed to know exactly what I meant. “The water has the same effect on me,” he said.
Our conversation stalled then, and he headed toward the bedroom door. I was walking over to the door to open it for him when something on the small table in front of the fireplace caught my eye. I gave an involuntary exclamation.
“My album!”
“What album?”
I went over to the album and leafed through it quickly. All the pictures were there and intact. “It’s a photo album that I brought with me when I came here,” I explained. “After my first day here, it disappeared. I looked everywhere for it, but I couldn’t find it. I was beginning to doubt I’d ever see it again.”
“I’m glad it turned up,” Pete said. “I wonder where it’s been.” He cocked his eyebrows and looked at me intently.
“I have no idea. The only thing I can think of is that someone took it out of idle curiosity and gave it back when their curiosity was satisfied.”
“And you’re sure it was really missing?”
“Of course I’m sure!” I exclaimed in exasperation. “Why would I say it had been missing if it’s been on that table the whole time? I’m not crazy!”
“I didn’t imply that you’re crazy,” Pete answered softly. “I was merely wondering if it’s possible that you misplaced it temporarily.”
“It is not possible,” I replied shortly.
“Okay, okay. May I see it?” he asked.
Reluctantly, I handed him the album. He set down his tools and looked at the pictures slowly, occasionally pausing to ask a question.
“Are these your parents?” he asked, pointing to a shot that had been taken earlier in the summer at a restaurant in Connecticut.
“Yes,” I answered quietly.
“Where do they live?”
“They lived in Connecticut, but they were both killed in a car accident almost two months ago,” I answered, staring at the photo with tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. I blinked them away quickly.
“I’m sorry,” Pete replied. “I had no idea.”
“That’s okay.”
He continued looking through the album. “I recognize a lot of famous New York City places in these pictures,” he noted. “You must miss the big city.”
“New York is exciting, but I wouldn’t say I miss it that much,” I said.
“Well, I’d better get back to work,” Pete said. “See you later.”
I opened the door for him and thanked him again for helping me, then turned back to my room and sat down in front of the fireplace. Picking up my album again, I turned to the page Pete had asked about. My mother and father smiled at me from a photo taken just a few months ago. The tears started falling onto the protective covering of the photo before I even realized I was crying. Mom and Dad had been visiting me the night they died. I wished I had kept them in New York City for just a few more minutes that August night. Then they would have missed that drunk driver and they would still be alive.
I suddenly found that I couldn’t stop crying. I put the album down, bowed my head, and let the tears come. I had been resisting this moment for weeks, and now that I was alone in this room on this island, I could mourn the two people who had been so important to me. I wept for a long time, and it felt good.
After a while, as sometimes happens, I was all cried out. I found that I was hungry for lunch, and I needed to look in on Alex. I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror; my eyes and nose were predictably puffy and red, so I ran some cold water and splashed my face several times, then applied some concealer under my eyes. The effect was certainly not glamorous, but it was passable.
Rather than going downstairs right away, I stepped out onto the balcony for a few deep breaths of fresh air. I stood with my hands on the railing, thinking about my conversation with Pete. These trees were indeed calming, and their flowing movements and soft sounds soothed me.
But the calm didn’t last for long. As I stood looking into the distance at nothing in particular, a sound interrupted the peace. I looked quickly in the direction the noise had come from and saw Vali standing at the corner where the balcony disappeared around the turret wall. I said nothing while I waited for her to speak, and finally she walked up to me.
“Miss Hallstead is asking for you,” she said simply.
“Thank you. I’ll go see her right now,” I answered. I didn’t want to be up on this balcony with Vali for long, so I started walking away from her. But she wasn’t finished speaking.
“Come with me. I want to show you something.”
I had no desire to accompany Vali anywhere, but something in her voice compelled me to turn and walk with her around the balcony to the opposite side of Summerplace, where a long, gracefully curving staircase led to the ground. I could see nothing, so I turned to her questioningly.
“I thought you might like to have a look at the place where Mr. Harper died,” Vali said in a low voice.
“Why would you think that?” I asked, becoming a little alarmed at her strange behavior.
She shrugged and pointed to the staircase. “He fell down those stairs. Broke his neck.”
I started down the stairs, hoping Vali wouldn’t follow me. “It wasn’t necessary to show me this place,” I informed her over my shoulder. “I have to go see what Alex needs.” I continued down the stairs and looked back only when I reached the bottom. Vali still stood on the balcony, staring at me. She gives me the creeps, I thought. I need to be more careful about finding myself alone with her.
Not wanting Vali to see that I was disconcerted by our encounter, I walked slowly until I reached the front of Summerplace. Then I hurried inside to Alex’s rooms and found her waiting for me in her office.
“Macy, let’s have lunch outdoors on the porch,” she suggested. “It’s such a lovely day outside, and I want to tell you about a project I have in mind for you tomorrow.”
“That sounds great,” I responded, intrigued. “Shall I get us something to eat?”
“I’ve already asked Vali to bring us something on a tray, and Leland has put some chairs and a small table outside my office. It’s just a little cool, but I don’t think it will be uncomfortable.”
I was looking forward to having lunch with Alex. Her initiative in inviting me to join her in a meal outdoors was an encouraging step in her recovery.
We went outside to sit and in a few minutes Vali appeared carrying a large tray containing chicken salad sandwiches, sliced melon, lemon cookies, and hot tea. She looked at me archly as she set the tray down on the table, and I ignored her. I poured tea for Alex and for me and Vali left, taking the tray with her.
I enjoyed my lunch with Alex very much. We talked of art and books and the weather and trivial things. Afterward we went for a walk around Summerplace and Alex told me about her winter home. The house, called Solstice, was apparently much smaller than Summerplace and was located on Pine Island, not far from Hallstead Island. Because the winters here in upstate New York were harsh and long, many of the houses lacked the capability to operate year-round. Summerplace was one of these. So every fall Alex directed the household’s move to Solstice, where everyone would remain until spring was in the air. Alex said she hated to leave Summerplace but she had no choice. Even if she were to enable it to remain habitable all winter, the snow and ice made it very difficult for people, particularly Stephan and Will, to get to and from Summerplace during the winter months. The homes on Pine Island had amenities that made winters more bearable in this region, and there were bridges connecting Pine Island to the mainland of both the United States and Canada. She informed me that she kept two cars at her home on Pine Island and that the household used them over the winter for everyday needs and short trips.
Alex’s project for me was to accompany Pete to Pine Island the next day to have a look around Solstice. She wanted me to begin rearranging furniture and carpets, just as I had done in Summerplace, to enable her to move around her winter home more easily. Pete’s job
was to check the cars and the outside of the house for any work that would need to be completed before the household moved there for the winter. I was eager to go. I was interested in seeing Solstice.
After our walk, I gave Alex a short break and then joined her for a brief period of physical therapy. She did quite well and seemed pleased with her progress. She said she hoped to be able to get up to that turret room before the move to Pine Island.
The rest of the day passed quietly. Alex and I ate dinner together in the dining room, a simple meal. After dinner we sat in front of her fire and she showed me several art books that she kept in her sitting room, antiques that she had bought on a trip through Italy many years ago, and I felt privileged to look through them with her.
When she was ready for bed, I left her and went upstairs to my room. After building a small fire in the fireplace, I sat up in bed for a long time reading the Paul Malo book, eventually finishing it and then falling asleep quickly. I didn’t have the nightmare that night, and I think it was because I had been able to openly grieve for my parents earlier that day for the very first time.
CHAPTER 8
In the morning, I was surprised when I walked into the dining room to find Will sitting at the long table alone. He raised his glass of orange juice toward me in greeting and I sat down at the table with him.
“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” I remarked.
The smirk on his handsome face did not become him. “I’ll bet you enjoyed my absence.”
I chose not to answer him, and we ate breakfast in silence, though he turned his dark gaze on me several times as we sat there. Uncomfortable, I ate quickly so I could leave the room. When I had finished washing my dishes, I noticed that he had also left, leaving much of his food untouched.
I hurried through the living room on my way to check on Alex but paused for a moment as I glanced up at the portrait of Forrest Harper. I shivered as I visualized the winding staircase on which he had died. I wished Vali hadn’t shown me where the tragedy occurred.
When I reached Alex’s sitting room, I knocked on the door and poked my head in. Alex was already there, pacing slowly up and down in front of her sofa. She was still dressed in her nightgown and seemed not to have noticed my presence. Her hands were fluttering nervously and she was talking softly to herself.
I was alarmed. This was not the Alex I expected to find this morning, especially after the good day she had had yesterday. I walked to her quickly and took her cold hands in mine. She looked at me, confused, and I gently helped her to sit down.
“Alex, are you feeling all right?”
“Macy, I’m glad you’re here.” She was silent for several moments. I didn’t probe, feeling sure she would tell me the problem when she was ready. At length she spoke again.
“We had a good day yesterday, didn’t we, Macy? It felt good to walk around outdoors, and it felt good to do the physical therapy exercises. And I especially enjoyed our luncheon outdoors.” She stopped.
I nodded in agreement, waiting for her to continue.
“You know, I was glad to start the process of moving the household to Pine Island. Are you still going over there today with Pete?”
“Not if I’m needed here.” I looked at her pointedly.
“Well, we need to be organized about the move. It’s a long process and we need to get started. The weather will be getting very cold soon. It will probably even snow before too long. We need to get started,” she repeated.
I tried to soothe her. “Alex, I think you’re very organized about the move. And we’ll get started today. But you seem to have the move to Pine Island down to a science—I can’t believe that’s what has you upset this morning.” Again, I waited for her to tell me what was bothering her.
“Macy, you’ve been here barely a week. And I don’t know what I would do without you anymore. Have you seen the picture of my daughter, Diana, in the living room?”
“I don’t think so,” I answered, not sure where this conversation was headed.
“Come with me. I want to show it to you.”
She led the way out of her rooms and into the living room, where she made a beeline for a portrait that sat on an antique console table behind a sofa. Somehow I hadn’t noticed the portrait before now. She picked it up and stared lovingly at it. It was, in fact, a portrait of the same woman who appeared in the photo I had seen on my first day here, the photo in the library of the smiling young woman wearing a formal gown and a sparkling necklace. Not only was it the same woman, but she was wearing the same dress and the same necklace, too.
“I saw a picture of her on my first day here. In the library,” I added. “I didn’t know that was Diana. It’s a lovely portrait.”
“Thank you. I painted it. I painted it from a photo that was taken on Diana’s eighteenth birthday.”
I stood next to Alex, unsure of what to do next. She was still staring fixedly at the photo and seemed oblivious to anything else. Suddenly she turned to me with tears in her eyes.
“Diana died eleven years ago today,” she stated flatly.
My heart swelled with sympathy for her and, impulsively, I reached out and hugged her. She clung to me for a moment before holding herself away from me, tears trickling down her cheeks.
“I wasn’t the best mother in the world. God knows I made mistakes. But I miss her very much.”
“Of course you do. And I’m sure you were a very good mother to Diana. You know, we always seem to dwell on the things that we did wrong once it’s too late to fix them. But a couple of wise people once taught me that you have to learn to forgive yourself. Maybe you should think about forgiving yourself.”
Alex smiled. “That’s good advice, Macy. I will try to forgive myself. But our relationship could have been better. She could be very tempestuous, and Forrest and I spoiled her, I’m afraid. We were always working and we wanted to make up for the time we weren’t able to spend with her, I guess. She and I fought a lot, and I will always wish that we had been closer.” She sighed.
“On this date every year, I get distraught thinking about her. Yesterday I thought that, with starting to plan for the move to Pine Island and with my work and my rehabilitation, I would be able to keep myself busy so that the pain wouldn’t touch me. But obviously it has. Talking to you has helped. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Would you like to talk some more?”
“No, I think I’d like to get dressed now, and then I’d like to do some exercises. Could we do that for a while?”
“Of course. I’ll meet you in your sitting room after you get some clothes on.”
Alex and I spent the rest of the morning walking and doing her physical therapy. While she bathed and dressed, I wrote a report for her doctors. My job required that I report weekly to her team of doctors and this was already my seventh day here. Happily, I was able to note that Alex was making significant progress in her rehabilitation and seemed to both enjoy and look forward to her exercises. Her primary doctor was nearby on the mainland, so I could mail the report from Pine Island later that afternoon.
While I wrote my report, Will came looking for Alex and the two of them disappeared into her office to work. I had a short time before I had to start getting ready to go to Pine Island, so I slipped into the library to work on my new categorization system. After a quick lunch I ran upstairs to change my clothes. I knew it would be a chilly boat ride and I wanted to be sure I would be warm enough. I was already dressed warmly, but I added a thick wool sweater and a shearling coat. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, checked my makeup, and went in search of Pete down by the boathouse.
I found him loading some tools into one of the boats. It was smaller and more modern than the mahogany one he had brought to pick me up from Cape Cartier. It looked sportier and faster and I found myself getting apprehensive about making the short trip to Pine Island. I must have given myself away somehow, because Pete noticed.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s no
thing, really,” I answered, not wanting him to know how nervous I was. “I—”
“Hmm ?”
“I just—I guess I’m not used to being in boats. They make me a little nervous; that’s all.”
“You didn’t seem this nervous when I picked you up in Cape Cartier last week.”
“I think that was because I had a lot of other things on my mind.”
“Oh. There’s nothing to be afraid of. They’re perfectly safe. And this is a state-of-the-art craft. Besides,” he added, grinning, “you know how to swim, right?”
I winced. “Actually, I don’t,” I said almost apologetically.
He looked at me sharply. “You can’t swim?” he asked in surprise.
“No.”
“That’s okay. Just make sure you learn at some point. But don’t worry about the boat ride. I’ll get us there in one piece. Could you give me a hand with these tools?”
I started handing him several boxes of tools that sat on the dock and was grateful for the diversion. Before long we were ready to board the boat.
“Hop on,” Pete directed me. I stepped gingerly into the boat and chose a seat near the front, a little out of the wind.
“It’s a nice day, but it’ll be pretty chilly once we start moving,” Pete told me. “There are a couple of extra Windbreakers under that seat,” he said, pointing to the seat behind me. I nodded. He looked sideways at me from the driver’s seat. “Do you want a life jacket?” he asked. “Maybe that would make you a little more comfortable.”
I was undecided. The nurse part of me knew wearing a lifejacket was the smart thing to do, but the woman part of me didn’t want to look foolish. Vanity lost out and I opted for the life jacket. Before we pulled away from the dock I was outfitted in a bulky orange vest. With my sweater, coat, and lifejacket, I must have looked puffy and ridiculous, but I didn’t care. I felt less panicky and that was worth the embarrassment.
Pete eased out into the channel, where there was hardly any other boat traffic. I must have been gripping the sides of my seat, because he looked at me and laughed.
