Sailing Lessons

by Hannah McKinnon

  While the kids ate, she tucked the laptop under her arm and went upstairs. But she didn’t make it to the shower. Her bed was so alluring, and instead of walking past it she slipped back in. What was ten minutes more? She still had an hour to get George to his sailing lesson. She sipped her Bloody and checked work emails and messages from the office. There was a call from a woman with a British accent to see the Ridgevale place. Finally!

  Shannon was about to shut down her computer and drag herself into the shower when a folder in the bottom corner of her screen caught her eye: Stock Photos. It was a folder of saved work taken over the years. Some of it went back to before the kids were born, and were scanned images of nondigital prints she’d done in her darkroom when she and Reid first got married and lived in Orleans. Some was more recent, like the spontaneous photos she’d snap on the way to work when a scene or a sunset forced her car off the road and necessitated she pull her camera bag out of the back. Those were some of her best shots. Chatham Light on a foggy morning as the sun rose. Edith, the grandmotherly waitress at Larry’s PX as she handed a chubby-cheeked Avery a hot cocoa with a candy cane in it. Shannon liked that Avery’s face peeked out from the corner and that the focus was on Edith’s hands, her crinkling smiling eyes. There was a recent shot of a fisherman unloading catch at the Chatham Pier, his yellow coveralls the only pop of color against the gray sea and sky.

  Shannon felt good looking at the images, not just because they were personal to her, but because she felt the work was strong. Yet she’d never shown anyone in her family. Caleb Bailey was the artist, not her, and the last thing she wanted was to be compared to a man whose work had come before his family. The office staff had seen some of her work, but that was mostly in the context of real estate images. Still, they were always telling her she should have her own show. That these were pictures people would spend their money on. Shannon wasn’t sure if that were true, but lately she’d been thinking it might be time to find out.

  She ran the shower and undressed, feeling a pleasing looseness in her limbs. She’d made her Bloody Mary a bit stronger than she intended. But it was so good, and there was only a little left, so she took it in the shower with her. What was the difference? It was mostly tomato juice.

  George came in soon after, while she was blow-drying her hair. “You’re still in your bathrobe? We’re going to be late!”

  “It’s okay, George. I’ll just be a quick minute.” Thank God he was dressed.

  “Whistle?” she asked, racing past him to her walk-in.

  “Got it.”

  “Sunscreen?”

  “Winnie put it on.”

  “If only Winnie could drive.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing! I’ll meet you in the car, honey. Grab a water bottle!”

  George was right. She’d taken longer than she meant to in the shower, and there was no time to finish getting ready. She pulled on a pair of soft capri yoga pants and a T-shirt and ran downstairs. “Let’s go!” she called.

  Winnie was at the kitchen island reading a book. “He’s waiting outside. Can we go into town?”

  “Maybe when I get back. I’ve got to get your brother to sailing.” She glanced at the clock. “Has your father called?”

  “Nope.”

  She and Reid talked several times a day. It was disconcerting to not have heard anything from him yet, especially after last night. She’d call him on the way.

  Poor George. He was already in the car, buckled into his seatbelt. Shannon eyed him in the rearview mirror.

  “Hey, buddy. Good job getting ready.”

  He didn’t say anything. It was already two o’clock. They were late.

  She backed out of the garage. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry, we’re just five minutes away.”

  George stared out the window. Now she’d disappointed another male in the family. She glanced at her phone in her lap. She pressed Reid’s number. It went straight to voice mail.

  It wasn’t fair. For all these years she’d juggled motherhood and working and being a wife and keeping a beautiful family home. She’d tried to appease Bitsy as both an agent and a daughter-in-law. And for all these years she’d kept all her bases covered. Now during summer, her most favorite season of all, she was dropping all her balls. She turned out of her gravel drive and hit the gas.

  Shannon’s head throbbed. The Ridgevale house was priced high, and Everett Banks refused to hold open houses. She couldn’t pop over to Lindy’s with the kids or spend any meaningful time with her sisters because they were too busy entertaining their estranged father, acting like tour guides in their own town, taking him into their homes, their new shops, their Sunday night dinners. Leaving her out. At the next stop sign a car cut her off. It was her turn! Shannon laid on the horn.

  And Reid—good old Reid who she’d not spent a lick of time with because she was so stressed and strained with the rest of it. The car in front of her slowed to a snail’s pace. It was 2:05. “Come on!” Shannon shouted. She glanced at George in the rearview mirror. “Almost there,” she assured him.

  Now she’d have to run George down to the beach and find a free instructor to help with the boat, as the rest of his class would already be on the water. He’d be upset having to catch up. The car in front of her was clearly on a sightseeing tour, slowing to look out the windows at the houses along the water. They were so close to the Yacht Club, and yet it was taking forever. “This is ridiculous.” Shannon accelerated and swerved around the car. The driver threw her a look as she blew past, and it was all she could do not to give him the finger.

  “Mommy?”

  “It’s fine, George.”

  The Stage Harbor Yacht Club was just up the narrow street on her right. She was about to put her indicator on when she heard the wail of a siren. There in her rearview mirror was a police car. Its blue-and-red lights flashing. “Shit.” It was not fine.

  There was no place to pull over on the narrow lane, so Shannon had no choice but to slow and pull into the Yacht Club lot. Fantastic. George was not only late, they had arrived with a police escort.

  “Mommy, what happened? Are you in trouble?”

  She pulled over nearer the marina adjacent, praying it was less conspicuous than the club. Who was she kidding? Everyone could see them.

  “It’s okay, honey. Just sit still and let Mommy talk.”

  The officer was a young woman. She knocked on Shannon’s window.

  “I’m so sorry!” Shannon began. But her window was closed, she was so flustered, and she had to start over again when she rolled it down. “We were running late to a lesson, and that car in front of me kept slowing and stopping. They were driving rather erratically, actually . . .”

  “License and registration, please, ma’am.”

  The officer did not want to hear about it. She reached across the passenger seat and popped open the glove box. The registration and insurance cards were there, but when she looked around for her purse it was nowhere in the car. “Oh, God. I think I left my purse on the kitchen counter.” She turned to the officer. “I was rushing. I’m so sorry!” She handed over the insurance cards, hands shaking.

  But the officer remained at the window. “Will you remove your sunglasses?” the officer asked.

  “What?”

  “Your sunglasses.”

  “Oh. Okay, sure.” Shannon slipped them up on her head. The officer removed her own sunglasses as well, and leaned in her window. “Where did you say you were coming from?”

  Shannon blinked. “My home. It’s just up the road, not far at all.”

  “Ma’am, have you been drinking this morning?”

  Thirty-Eight

  Hank

  The first call came from Wren. She wanted to know if they would mind if she and Lucy came over to look at something in the back shed. They were bringing Caleb. Lindy and Beverly were sitting on the sun porch having coffee when Hank brought the phone out. “What do they want from the shed?”

  Hank shook his
head. Wren had not said, but she was still on the line if Lindy wanted to talk to her.

  “Whatever it is, that’s fine.” She was still distracted from the events of the ball. It had been a lovely night, even if her daughters were not quite themselves. Lindy had complained at bedtime that Piper was so unsettled. “Do you notice how ‘all over the place’ she is? I’m worried about her.”

  Hank had, and he was worried, too. But as usual, he predicted there would be many discussions before any action, if any, was taken, and so he’d made an extra-large pot of coffee that morning.

  The next call came from Piper. She was working at the shop for Wren, but she sounded funny. Hank handed the phone directly to Lindy. He’d yet to hear what the outcome of that was.

  The final call came from Reid. He spoke so quietly that at first Hank didn’t think he’d heard him correctly. “You’re where?” Hank had asked.

  “The police department. Shannon’s been arrested. Will you and Lindy please pick up the kids?”

  This call he did not hand over to Lindy. He wrote down the details, hung up, and went straight to the sun porch instead. “We have to run over to Shannon’s place,” he said.

  Both women perked up. “Why?” Lindy asked. “Was that her?”

  “Not exactly. Reid needs us to pick something up.” Hank did not want to say this in front of Beverly. He could’ve pulled Lindy aside, somewhere in the house, but Lindy was not known for her discretion. And despite her age, Beverly was known for highly attuned hearing.

  Both women frowned. “I haven’t been to Shannon’s house yet, even though she keeps saying she’s going to have us for dinner. So busy, these days. So much running around,” Beverly sighed. “Maybe I’ll fix my hair and come for a ride with you?”

  “No!” Hank said. “I mean, it’s just a quick drive over to pick something up. We’ll be coming right back.”

  Lindy narrowed her eyes. “What are we picking up?”

  For the first time in their marriage, Hank did not answer directly. “Lindy, I’m afraid I’m in a rush. Are you coming or not?”

  He’d not spoken to her like that before, and he braced himself for her receipt. To his surprised and great relief, she stood. “Well, all right.” Lindy turned to her mother. “It seems we’ll be right back. Why don’t you hold down the fort for Lucy and Wren?”

  Hank did not look back but got the keys. He would drive.

  • • •

  There was no keeping the news from the children. George could not stop talking. Neither could the rest of them.

  “The police officer called Daddy, and he had to come to the Yacht Club. But they took Mommy in the police car.”

  Lindy eyed Hank in the driver’s seat. When she was not turning around in her seat reassuring the children in a practiced falsetto, her mouth resumed its position of grim straight line.

  They’d met Reid at the house. He was standing in the kitchen, hands on his hips as if at the ready, his shirt unbuttoned, his tie askew. George and Winnie were on the couch on high alert. “I haven’t been to the station yet,” he said, running his hand roughly through his hair. “I wanted to keep the kids out of it.”

  “Of course!” Lindy had said. She went straight to the couch, arms open.

  “Is Shannon all right?” Hank asked, keeping his voice low.

  Reid shook his head. “I wish I knew. I’ll call you both when I know more.”

  Now, all three kids sat in the back, Bowser in the far back. Lindy had insisted on bringing him. “Canine comfort in times of crisis.” Hank wasn’t about to argue.

  “Is Mommy in trouble?” Avery asked, shakily.

  “Mommy’s going to be okay,” Lindy told her. “Sometimes parents make mistakes, too, and we’re going to help Mommy make it better. Don’t you worry.” At the last part her voice cracked, and she turned around to face forward. Hank put a hand on her knee.

  “Let’s go to our house and see Great Grammy Beverly,” he said. “I think there’s ice cream in the fridge.”

  From the backseat came a small voice. “Mommy loves ice cream.”

  • • •

  Hank had forgotten all about Wren. Apparently, so had Lindy. “Oh, Good Lord,” she said as they pulled into the driveway. Her car was parked to the side. Standing in the middle of their driveway, as if welcoming them home, was Caleb.

  “Who’s that?” asked Avery.

  Lindy looked to Hank, but this time he was out of answers. Shannon did not want the kids anywhere near Caleb Bailey. But Shannon was in jail. Lindy took a deep breath and pushed open the passenger door. “Come on, kids. Let’s go meet your Grandpa.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Wren

  She had an idea. Lindy might not like it. Shannon was sure to hate it. Depending on her mood, Piper could go either way. But Wren felt it in her gut, and sometimes you had to listen to your gut, even if it meant not listening to your mother.

  There was not much time left, and there was so much still to do. Her phone had rung again, with the same Arizona phone number she’d answered last time. Her father’s friend Alice.

  “Hello, Wren? It’s Alice, again. Do you have a minute, please?” Her voice held a plaintive tone.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Oh, good. How are you all doing?” The familiarity with which this woman spoke to her caught Wren off guard. What did she want?

  “We’re fine. How can I help you?”

  “I’m your dad’s friend. And sponsor?”

  Of course, his AA sponsor. She let her guard down a little. “Yes, he mentioned you. Hello.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your visit. I just wanted to check on him. How is he doing?”

  Wren told Alice about the hospital visit. “Is he taking his pain meds? If he doesn’t stay on top of them, it’s harder to regulate.”

  Alice was not an outsider, Wren realized. Alice was someone her father needed, and someone she realized, with a fluter of relief, that she too might need in the picture. Wren thought of the Fentanyl patches she’d picked up at the pharmacy the day before. “He’s been taking the pills, but it’s getting worse,” she admitted. “His appetite isn’t much these days. It comes and goes.” She let her breath out. “He was so strong when he first got here.”

  Alice was a good listener. It gave Wren hope for what was awaiting her father back in Arizona. He did have friends, a home, and people to help look after him. It would make letting him go a little easier. Wren agreed to talk each day, and allowed that there wouldn’t be many before she had to get him on a plane back to Arizona.

  As they sat on the beach at Lighthouse Beach that morning, it had come to her. The worst day of her life had begun with the boat. What if they were to go back to it?

  The house was empty, save for Beverly, who was posted on the front porch as if waiting for them, when they arrived. “Where’s Mom?”

  “It’s a mystery, dear. I’m just along for the show. Grab an iced tea and join me?”

  Now, as she stood in front of the shed she wasn’t so sure.

  “What’s the plan?” Caleb asked. She’d not told him but asked him to simply come along on an errand. He was getting tired, she could tell, and she wanted to offer the idea up to him before they went home and he took one of his long afternoon naps. She wanted him to sleep on it.

  Wren tugged at the handles, and the shed doors creaked open. They called it the shed, but it was an old carriage house in the rear of the yard under the shade of an oak. Dust motes floated through the air, illuminated by the sunlight that filtered through the side windows. Wren pointed to the far-left corner. Caleb followed.

  The canvas tarp was stained and covered in dust, but it peeled back easily. “What do you think?” Wren asked.

  Caleb did not speak. He stood a long time staring at the Beetle Cat. Wren watched as he stepped forward and placed his hand on the hull, running it slowly along the sheer oak planks. “After all these years.” He turned to her. “Your mother kept it?”

  Wren nodde
d, unsure if this would prove too much. But her father’s eyes sparkled. He came to life, lifting the canvas tarp up and away, revealing the whole of the boat.

  “She’s dusty and old. I’m not sure she’s seaworthy. But I had an idea.”

  They’d just stepped out of the shed when they heard the car pull in. Caleb went out to the front as Wren tried to decide how to best get the boat out of there. It would take many hands. Her father wasn’t strong enough, and it was heavy for two.

  She’d half expected Lindy to come fluttering into the back, a suspicious look in her eyes as she sniffed around to see what they were doing in her shed. But the sound of car doors slamming was followed by children’s voices coming from the front.

  When she rounded the corner, there stood her father in the driveway with Lindy and Hank. The adults were secondary. Lucy was making introductions to George, Avery, and Winnie. Reid and Shannon were nowhere to be seen.

  • • •

  “She what?” Wren could not believe it. She kept one eye on the kids, who were talking shyly to Caleb on the bottom porch step, a tray of lemonade and a bowl of potato chips between them. George blew his sailing whistle, and everyone covered their ears.

  Lindy kept her voice low. “Shannon’s been arrested. Reid is down there now, posting bail. It seems she’ll be free to go after her arraignment.”

  Wren sat back in her chair, glancing worriedly at Beverly. Her grandmother had her hands over her ears and was shaking her head. “It’s too much,” she kept saying.

  Lindy did not look much better.

  “Should I go down there?”

  “No.” Lindy was firm about this. “Shannon needs us here with the kids.”

  “What about Dad?” All three women cast their eyes to the bottom step. Caleb was nodding along to something the kids were saying. Avery, the oldest, looked curious but uncertain. Winnie and George were engaged. “She’s going to kill us,” Wren said. “You know she will.”