A Vineyard Morning

by Jean Stone

  “He mad at someone?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Not even at Donna. Well, not at her exactly. But he found out last night that she had cancer. And that she didn’t tell him.” She hadn’t intended to tell Earl so soon, and certainly not while he was in his pickup and she was standing on the roadside at seven in the morning where little could be heard above the engine of the truck other than the incessant chirping of a few birds.

  “She’s terminal?” he asked.

  “No. She’s actually recuperating. But she hasn’t used the word ‘cure,’ or even ‘remission.’ So that’s where we’re at.” Until that moment, Annie hadn’t realized she’d been worried about the possibility that Donna might not “recuperate.”

  “Well, God, that’s unsettling.”

  She didn’t tell Earl that she didn’t know what God had to do with it. Having faith in anything had waxed and waned for her over the years.

  Then Earl said, “Get in.” He raised a thumb and gestured toward the passenger side of the cab. “I can’t have you trundling all over this island in the wee hours of the morning. You might run into Bigfoot or a gator.”

  She could not stop a smile. “There’s no such thing as Bigfoot, at least not on Chappaquiddick. And I don’t believe that we have gators, either.”

  “You never know,” he said. “Stranger things have happened here.”

  Annie didn’t need to be reminded of that, either.

  * * *

  They went straight to the Inn where Kevin was still on his hands and knees doing penance with the lumber and the steel.

  “Coffee time,” Earl said above the din.

  Annie looked around. “Unless you have a few thermoses in the truck, we don’t have coffee here, do we?”

  Neither man said, “No,” because they no doubt knew they didn’t.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Earl said. “We’ll go down to the cottage.”

  “We can’t,” Kevin said. “Donna’s there, remember?”

  Earl nodded. “Yup. But she called the landline at the house half an hour ago. She was looking for you, Kevin. She said an awful lot of hammering was coming from the Inn, and she was worried about vandals. She wanted you to find out what the heck was going on. She also said she called your cell, but you didn’t answer.”

  Kevin pulled the nail heads from his mouth again and said something that sounded a lot like, “Shit.”

  “I suggested that she put the coffee on.” Earl turned to Annie. “You have cinnamon rolls?”

  “In the freezer,” she replied, and the three of them journeyed down the short slope to the little cottage where who knew what awaited.

  Chapter 15

  “This isn’t my business, so I shouldn’t be here,” Earl said once the four of them were seated at Annie’s kitchen table. “But I figure I’ll hear about it sooner or later, so I might as well save everyone the trouble.” He looked at Donna. “I’m sorry for your situation, Donna. What can we do to help?” They’d seen each other twice before when Donna had come to the island. Annie had been pleased that they’d seemed to get along.

  Donna smiled. “I’m not sure I should have come, now that I’ve heard about the alarming new problem here.”

  At least she hadn’t referred to it as Annie’s skull.

  “Yup, well, it’s a wait-and-see game. As much as I hate to say it, we’re at the mercy of the folks in Boston now. But what about you? Are you going to stay here with us?”

  “That’s up to the kids.”

  The kids, of course, were fifty-two-year-old Annie and forty-three-year-old Kevin.

  Annie cleared her throat. “Kevin and I think it’s best if none of us makes a decision for a week or two. We want you to settle in, Donna. See how you feel then. Who knows? Maybe you’ll hate recuperating here. But you’re the one who matters now. Not us.” There, she thought. Done. No further discussion needed.

  “Sounds sensible,” Earl said.

  “Sounds wonderful,” Donna said. “Thank you. Mostly I’m worn out from the treatments. But I’ll feel better soon. You’ll see.” She picked up half of a now-thawed cinnamon roll. “Now what are we going to do about your situation?”

  “The ‘alarming’ one?” Kevin asked. At least his sense of humor had returned, albeit through sarcasm. “Like Earl said, it’s up in Boston. Out of the island’s jurisdiction. Or so the state cops told us.”

  “You mentioned that yesterday. Which got me to thinking. . . ”

  Kevin turned to Annie. “She can’t resist a challenge. Or a good argument.”

  “Stop,” Donna said with a giggle. “It’s apparent you need to do whatever it takes to move the investigation along. Right now, too much is in limbo. And forget about the tourists, what about the people who are planning to live here year-round? It isn’t fair to keep them on hold. As I recall from Annie’s situation last summer, housing is a problem here.”

  Annie nodded.

  Earl agreed.

  And Kevin rubbed the back of his neck.

  “But never mind all that,” Donna added, “I thought of something that might help.”

  “Listen to your mother,” Earl said, and Kevin groaned.

  “All the years I was in Boston, I never needed to get to know any law enforcement folks. On the other hand . . . Kevin? Remember Gina, honey? What was her last name? Medina? Molina? Something Italian, right?”

  Annie had no way of knowing what Kevin was thinking, but by the way his face paled and his jaw contorted, she had a feeling that it wasn’t good.

  “Gina Fiorina, Mom. And no, I’m not going to contact her.”

  “But isn’t she a doctor? If I recall correctly, she works with the Boston police.”

  Kevin stood up and held his hands in front of his face, palms out, creating the illusion of a barrier. “Forget it, Mom. Let it be.” He brought his mug to the sink and dumped the contents down the drain. “I’m heading back up the hill to finish what I was doing. This thing will blow over before we know it, and I don’t want to have to rush and do a half-ass job. See y’all later.” He went out the door without looking back.

  Earl stood, too. “Seems you touched a nerve,” he said to Donna. “There are lots of nerves around these parts right now. Don’t take it personally.”

  Donna nodded and said something, but Annie didn’t hear—like Kevin, she had plummeted into her own paralyzing thought: she, too, knew someone who worked with law enforcement in the city. And though she had no idea why Kevin was averse to calling Gina Fiorina, Annie knew very well why she would not—would never—contact Larry Hendricks. No matter how much was at stake.

  * * *

  After Earl pocketed the last roll and said he’d best get a move on or Claire would think he’d run away, Annie cleaned up the dishes, then told Donna that she wanted to shower and get ready for the day. She asked if Donna needed any help before she went back to the Inn.

  Donna shook her head. “I’m fine, dear. I didn’t mean to upset Kevin. It seems like that’s all I’ve done since I arrived.”

  “I’m not sure,” Annie said with a smile, “but I think that’s a mother’s prerogative.”

  “I’ll try not to misbehave again. But though I understand his hesitation, I do think Gina might be able to help. Or she might have connections to someone who could.”

  As tempting as it might have been to ask what Donna meant about Kevin’s hesitation, Annie didn’t. For all she knew, Gina was an old flame that he didn’t want to cross paths with again. So she merely said, “I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” which seemed to be the new mantra for them.

  But on her way up the hill, Annie knew that Donna had a point. Feeling homeless was still fresh in Annie’s mind. And with the season coming fast upon them, Greg Collins, Marty and Luke Amanti, and Harlin Pierce (who’d rented the third room) might need to be back in the market for somewhere to live. Greg was a carpenter who had been commuting from Falmouth on the Cape; the Amantis were elementary school teachers in Edgartown whose landlord h
ad sold the house they’d been renting, forcing them to move in with friends; Harlin was on the waitstaff at an upscale restaurant, had a marimba band, and currently lived with six guys and a whole lot of percussion instruments in a cramped two-bedroom apartment—Annie had asked if his band would play at the Inn’s grand opening. The new tenants were all hardworking young people at the start of their careers who needed the kind of break that the Inn was intended to provide. The winter rentals would accommodate three more islanders come October; eleven people were already on the waiting list. Earl, Kevin, and Annie had gone into the project knowing they could not single-handedly solve the housing problem on the island, but they’d wanted to help in this small way.

  Like the hummingbird, she heard Murphy whisper.

  Annie stopped and looked out to the water, remembering the tale from the indigenous people of South America about a hummingbird. When a forest fire raged through his homeland, the hummingbird carried water in its tiny beak—one drop at a time—back and forth from a stream, attempting to put out the fire. The other forest animals huddled in fear; one asked the bird why it was bothering to try to do the impossible. The hummingbird said while he knew he could not douse the entire fire, he at least could do his part.

  One of Murphy’s twins had learned about the story—and its meaning had resonated when Murphy received her grim cancer prognosis, and as each person who loved her stepped up to do his or her part. Together, though they couldn’t change the outcome, they’d made a bit of difference every day.

  Annie turned back and looked up at what had been becoming their beautiful Inn. She knew if there was anything that could be done to accelerate the resolution and get them all out of limbo, she needed to do her part. With Larry Hendricks out of the question, maybe she could reason with Kevin.

  * * *

  “No,” Kevin said when Annie found him, his teeth gritted, his biceps beating nails into the floorboards as if he were tenderizing them.

  “What if I contact her instead?”

  The hammering stopped. His body froze. He did not look up at her.

  “No,” he said again.

  So she told him the hummingbird story.

  When she was done, he sighed and put down his hammer. Then he sat on the floor. “I can’t,” he said. “This is not a drop of water, Annie. Will you please leave it alone?”

  She hung her head and picked at the threads of her old sweater. “What if she doesn’t know that we’re connected? I could approach her as an author . . . ask her questions as research for my new book. Who knows, she might even be one of my fans. Or I could take a more honest approach and tell her I’m involved with the Inn on Chappy and that my business partners and I would appreciate a possible timeline for a reply so we can alert our tenants if they need to look for other housing.”

  Kevin stared at her, his hazel eyes unflinching.

  So Annie continued. “It might be worth a try, Kevin. I won’t mention your name unless you want me to. If she’s an old girlfriend . . .” It was the most plausible reason Annie could come up with as to why he wouldn’t want to make contact with Gina. It wasn’t as if he could have the same kind of history with her that Annie had with Hendricks.

  Kevin rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. “She’s not an old girlfriend, Annie. But stay the hell out of it. Please.”

  Oh, God, Annie thought, and sat down across from him. Like Earl had said to Donna, Annie had touched a nerve. “Well,” she said quietly, “I’m sorry for whatever happened. It must have been something big . . . but you don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to.” She hoped he’d laugh, but he did not.

  “Her full name is Doctor Gina Fiorina. She was the ER doctor who treated Meghan right after the accident.”

  Annie winced. Meghan. Kevin’s wife. Annie reached out, touched his hand. “Oh, Kevin, I am so sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, she testified at my civil trial.”

  Annie gulped. “Your trial?” It was news to her that there had been one.

  After a slow nod, Kevin continued. “When the extent of Meghan’s injuries—and the conjecture about her future, or rather, her lack of a future—became apparent, her parents filed a civil suit against me. They said I had something to do with the accident, that the scaffolding broke because of negligence—my negligence.”

  “Seriously?” Annie couldn’t hide her surprise. “Why would they do that?”

  He shrugged. “At first I thought they needed to direct their anger at someone. I was the most likely target, though God knows why. We didn’t have enough life insurance on either one of us for that to be a motive. Every dime we made either went back into the business or into investment property. That’s how we bought the condos I still own.”

  Not to mention the one or two he’d either sold or borrowed against to pool with Earl’s retirement money in order to buy the property for the Inn, Annie thought, but didn’t say.

  “If her parents knew there was no life insurance, why did they think you would have done that?”

  “It was simple. Workers’ comp took care of Meghan’s medical bills. But because I’d made sure she was in a pricey, private facility, her parents were afraid they’d somehow get stuck paying for Meghan’s long-term care.”

  Closing her eyes, Annie could almost feel his pain. “Wow. Had they always been so . . . cold?”

  “Not her dad. Her stepmother was behind it. Meghan’s mom died when she was a teenager, and her dad remarried fast. From day one, the stepmother let it be known that his daughter wouldn’t interfere with their way of life.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah. When they came to the hospital the night of the accident, all she said to me was, ‘This is your fault, Kevin.’ The police didn’t agree; after all was said and done, they couldn’t find a reason to arrest me. The civil suit came later.”

  “How did Gina enter the picture?”

  “She testified for the defense; she described the condition I was in when I arrived in the ambulance with Meghan. Which backed up the testimony of the officers who were first on the scene.” Kevin’s voice cracked on those last words. He turned back to his work. “It’s hard to talk about.”

  Weighing her words carefully, Annie said, “But it sounds like Gina was on your side, so couldn’t she be an ally now?” Her words hung like fog on a dank, misty morning. Moshup’s blanket, as Winnie had said, trying to bring comfort to his people.

  “The day Meghan was hurt was the worst day of my life, Annie. The day I had to go to court like I was a fucking criminal was the second worst. So no, I don’t want to reconnect with Dr. Fiorina. Bad memories, you know?” He hammered another floorboard.

  Annie certainly knew about bad memories. “I’m sorry, Kevin.”

  “No problem. You didn’t know.”

  “Does Mom know the details?”

  He nodded again. “She was there. In court. She wanted me to ask Gina out for a drink. Or dinner. Or probably to marry me.”

  Annie stifled a laugh. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope. Mom doesn’t want me to be alone. You’re lucky you have John or she’d be trying to hook you up with someone, too. So I’m sorry, but I can’t be your hummingbird. My little drop of whatever won’t be coming to Chappy.”

  “Well, maybe the real birds are overrated. They’re cute and fun to watch, but they eat bugs and rotten bananas. Terrible diet, if you ask me.” Annie stood up. “Now, I have to take a shower. You are free to return to laboring.” She bent down and planted a kiss on the top of his head. Then she went upstairs, her heart swollen with sorrow.

  Chapter 16

  Standing under the pelting hot shower, Annie mulled over Kevin’s history with Gina. She was glad he had explained it; she understood why he didn’t want to get in touch with her. There simply were some memories that no one needed to revisit. Did Larry Hendricks fit into that category?

  How she wished Murphy were really there to share a bottle of wine and a long conversation. Among so many things, Annie m
issed how they’d had each other’s backs, how she’d always felt safe telling Murphy everything. Murphy would have helped her decide if she should call Larry. Annie supposed she could have talked to Kevin, but there were some things a woman could only talk about with another woman, a best friend.

  Winnie. The name popped into Annie’s head as if Murphy had dropped it there. If Annie could talk to Winnie, maybe she could unburden her angst about the skull and its far-reaching consequences, about Donna’s situation, and maybe, just maybe, about her reluctance to contact Larry Hendricks when Annie knew damn well he could help. Not that he would.

  She quickly finished her shower, then dried and dressed. It was after ten-thirty when she left her room; it had already been a long morning, but Annie knew she needed to keep moving.

  Half-hopping down the stairs she called out to Kevin, “Stop hammering!”

  He stopped. Because though he was trying his damnedest to sort out his demons, he still was a good brother.

  She ran around the corner into the great room. “I’m heading up to Winnie’s. I’ll be back later this afternoon, but you’re in charge of Mom until then. Okay?”

  He hesitated, then said, “Sure.”

  “Thanks. And by the way, you’re doing a terrific job on the floor.”

  He managed a limp smile. “Yeah. Don’t mind if I say so.”

  She swatted him on the shoulder, and then, feeling a little lighter, she darted through the kitchen and out the back door to her Jeep.

  For the full two minutes it took to drive to the On Time, it seemed to Annie that things might work out after all. Her assumption was based on nothing in particular beyond a hoped-for talk with Winnie, but she wanted so badly to believe it that she refused to think otherwise—not even when she realized that Jonas was ahead of her in the ferry line. She might not have given it much thought, but she couldn’t help but notice that the back of his small SUV was packed with duffle bags, art canvases, and a large, folded-up easel. Jonas was going somewhere.

  She wondered if it had to do with Lucy planting that silly idea in his head about Taylor having faked the letters from his dad. It was a ridiculous assumption. If the woman had wanted to knock him off the sailboat, grab the family’s fortune, and then write the letters to make people think she’d loved him and could never have done such a thing . . . well, why would she have hidden the letters for years? Still, Annie did not know how she might have felt if she were Jonas.