My Kind of People

by Lisa Duffy

  “What’d you say?”

  “I said ‘Unknown to who’? Cars don’t drive themselves. It sure as hell wasn’t unknown to whoever parked it there.”

  “Bet that went over well.”

  “ ’Course it didn’t.” Joe smirks. “But I wasn’t going to tell her it belonged to the massage therapist waiting for me to get naked in the den. None of her damn business. It’s not a goddamn gated community. It’s a public street.”

  Leo raises his eyebrows. “Massage therapist, huh? You don’t seem like the type.”

  “I’m not. And he’s a guy too. Big Tarzan-type dude. My sister talked me into it. It took some convincing to get me in a towel on a bed in front of this guy. But then he started on my shoulders. He worked out knots I didn’t even know I had. I never understood the guy-on-guy thing, but every time Tarzan works his magic, I think if I was smart, I’d switch teams.”

  Leo laughs. “Never too late, Joe.”

  A screen door slams behind them, and they both turn to see Sky, walking up the driveway toward them. She’s still in her pajamas, walking on the crushed seashell driveway with bare feet as though it were soft grass.

  She’ll be a beautiful woman someday, Leo thinks, with her light eyes and dark skin, features sharpening as she matures.

  But right now, she’s just a kid.

  Tall and skinny, all elbows and kneecaps, limbs that need growing into. Of course, it wasn’t like they could look at pictures of Sky’s parents to see what she might look like when she was grown.

  Nobody had any idea who her parents were. Sky was the island mystery.

  The newborn left in the fire station a decade ago during Hurricane Skylar, the worst storm in Ichabod history.

  It was Ann who found her. She was dropping off dinner for Brian when she heard a noise in the empty firehouse. She knew all the men were battling a blaze on the waterfront, and she wanted them to return to a warm meal. Swaddled in a basket on the table was a baby.

  A newborn.

  Most longtime islanders know the story by heart.

  How not a soul came forward to claim the healthy eight-pound baby girl with a shock of dark hair and skin to match.

  The story made regional headlines. State police and DCF were contacted, and they insisted the newborn be brought to the city. The Ichabod fire station was a safe haven—but there were still rules.

  Laws to abide.

  But the hurricane raged on, taking out power lines and canceling ferries, and, all the while, the abandoned newborn thrived in the island hospital nursery. Nurses fell in love with her. Tiny homemade knit hats were dropped off at the hospital. Blankets and quilts. The baby was the most exciting thing ever to happen to Ichabod Island.

  A week passed, then two. The story died down, and city officials finally made it over to the island, prepared to take the baby and place her in foster care. They had a long list of waiting applicants.

  But there she was, the newborn. Already sleeping peacefully in a crib in her very own nursery. Ann and Brian told the officials they wanted to adopt her—she’d already slept over two nights!

  Leo’s best friends had wanted kids. But Ann couldn’t have them. Over the last year before the storm, they took all the foster-care classes. They had their names on a list to adopt. And then this child appeared, belonging to no one.

  It made sense to the residents of Ichabod. Ann was a midwife—a baby whisperer, everyone said.

  Brian was a firefighter, no doubt the future chief with the way the men regarded him.

  Churchgoers and charity-event organizers, Brian and Ann were the golden couple of Ichabod.

  Ann found the baby, everyone said.

  It was meant to be, everyone agreed.

  Even the Department of Children and Families couldn’t argue. Or maybe they did. But now that they were on Ichabod Island, the residents had spoken.

  Like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, the abandoned newborn’s future suddenly took shape. Brian and Ann named her Skylar, after the hurricane. Her last name, Pope, was theirs. And just like that, they became Ichabod Island’s cherished family.

  This was the story the island knew. But Leo knew more than that.

  He knew his friends had struggled for years. Ann couldn’t have children. Brian never said why—just that it wasn’t “in the cards.” Adoption was expensive. Especially for a baby. Ann suggested an older child. Brian refused. A family member out west had gone that route and according to Brian, it was a shit show.

  Leo knew from the very first day his friends brought Sky home, they fell in love. How they said she saved them—not the other way around.

  And now it was just the two of them. Leo and Sky. And Xavier, of course. His husband who wanted to be anywhere but on this island.

  How do you build a new life? Leo wonders. How do you fill shoes so goddamn big?

  “Earth to Leo,” he hears Joe say. When he blinks, Sky and Joe appear before him.

  “Where did you go?” Joe asks, but Sky just looks at him, as though she knows what it’s like to be standing in front of someone and disappear in your own mind.

  When Leo doesn’t answer, Joe winks at Sky. “Hey, Sport. Why are you up so early?”

  “We’re going to the beach,” says a voice from behind him. Leo turns to see Maggie standing next to him. She’s in a sundress, bathing suit straps tied around her neck, a cup of coffee in her hand.

  “I was just coming to make sure you were awake, Sky. It’s going to be in the nineties today, so we’ll want to get there early to get a good spot.” She looks over at Leo. “You sure you can’t come? Blow off work for the day?”

  “I wish,” he says.

  She turns to Joe. “How about you? Feel like joining us?”

  “You should come!” Sky says to Joe.

  “To the beach? Oh, no. They’ll think I’m a whale and harpoon me.”

  “Oh, you should come!” Maggie adds.

  “I don’t own a bathing suit.”

  “All the boys wear shorts just like that.” Maggie points to Joe’s gym shorts. “Plus, Sky never gets out of the water. I can only stay in so long before my toes are numb. You can sit in a chair at the edge and keep me company.”

  Joe looks at Leo for help, but Leo only shrugs.

  “I have towels, sunscreen, drinks, sandwiches, fruit. Plenty of beach chairs already in the back of my car,” Maggie says. “Don’t rush today, Leo. We’ll be just fine. See you in fifteen minutes, Joe.”

  She turns and walks away before Joe has a chance to argue. Sky skips off, and Leo looks at Joe, who stares back at him blankly.

  “What just happened?” Joe asks.

  “Well, if I’m not mistaken, you have approximately fourteen minutes and thirty seconds to get your ass ready for the beach.” He slaps Joe on the arm and walks away. “Don’t get harpooned,” he yells over his shoulder and laughs at the insults Joe hurls back at him.

  * * *

  Now that it’s nearly July, they have the schedule worked out.

  Leo works from home three days a week, and Maggie watches Sky the other two. For the most part, things run smoothly.

  Except when Frankie comes over for the day and, by midmorning, they’ve talked Leo into some adventure. Sailing on Leta Pond or surfing at the Point or jumping off Shoal Bridge into the bay.

  Today though, Leo has to do something he’s been avoiding for weeks.

  Sky’s grandmother has been asking to meet with him. Lillian is her name.

  He doesn’t know what she looks like. Not even a picture or a description.

  He knows only her voice from conversations over the phone. Twice Lillian has asked him to meet with her in person. Twice he canceled.

  The last time they spoke, Lillian said she wanted to meet to discuss the future. The way she said it sounded ominous to Leo.

  She had a slow, precise way of speaking, as though she were cherry-picking every word before it passed her lips. She had paused before future. A long enough pause that Leo had look
ed at the screen to confirm the call hadn’t ended unexpectedly.

  When the word future finally traveled through time and space and trickled through the cell phone pressed to his ear, he flinched.

  It was then that he wondered if she would contest the will. If she would try to take Sky away from him.

  Lillian was family, after all. Sky’s grandmother.

  Which is why he’d put off meeting her.

  When she called the third time to reschedule, it seemed rude to put her off. He heard his father’s voice in his head, telling him to get it done.

  Tide waits for no man, his father liked to say about pressing matters. A navy man and the harbormaster of Ichabod, Leo’s father had no use for procrastination. Even though his father died a decade ago, his voice still ran through Leo’s head.

  Some days, Leo welcomed it. Other days, like the one that made him agree to this meeting about the future, he wished he could just shut the old man up.

  Now, he’s sitting on a bench, waiting for the ferry to unload.

  “How will I recognize you?” Lillian had asked on the phone.

  He told her to look for the only black guy on the dock. A silence had met him on the other end of the line and Leo hadn’t known if it was because she’d just learned he was black, or that he’d said out loud what everyone already knew.

  Ichabod Island was, except for several Asian families and a crew of Jamaicans who were farmworkers at Bass Farm, all white.

  Leo’s scanning the dock when a woman steps through the crowd. She shields her eyes with her hand, then walks his way.

  “Leo,” she says when she reaches him, extending a hand. “Lillian.”

  She pushes her sunglasses up on her head while they shake. She’s in her fifties or sixties—it’s hard to tell from her hair and clothes.

  Chin-length black hair cut in a sleek bob. White T-shirt. Black linen pants. Flip-flops. Silver rings. A small moonstone medallion around her neck.

  Leo had expected an older version of Ann. Blond and preppy—the only jewelry he remembers Ann wearing was her wedding band and the simple gold cross around her neck. Both matching Brian’s.

  You’re not what I expected, he almost blurts, but stops himself.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” he says instead.

  Ann had always described the relationship with her mother as dysfunctional. Apparently, at some point, Ann cut all contact with Lillian, so Sky hadn’t seen or spoken to her grandmother in quite some time. This past year, when Ann spoke of her mother, she referred to them as estranged.

  Still. She was Ann’s mother. Estranged or not.

  “Thank you. To you as well,” Lillian says. “I understand Brian was a childhood friend. And for Ann—for both of them—to leave Skylar in your custody. You were obviously important to them.”

  This is delivered kindly. Leo searches her face for clues—a twitch of the lips, maybe. A glance down so he won’t see her true feelings. But no, she’s looking straight at him. Brown eyes, clear and honest.

  The way she calls Sky by her full name—Skylar—shows an unfamiliarity with her own granddaughter. Sky has always been just Sky to everyone who knows her.

  “Should we sit?” He points to the restaurants in town. “Have lunch?”

  She follows where he’s pointing as if surprised by the question.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I mentioned I don’t have much time. I really just wanted to meet and talk a bit. Say hello. Face-to-face.”

  “That’s quite a trip to say hello.”

  She points to the bench. “Shall we?”

  After they settle next to each other, he looks at her and waits. She clears her throat, faces him.

  “I came here on the ferry a couple of weeks ago. Walked around a little bit. Just to reacquaint myself. The island’s changed since my last visit.” She smiles. “Sorry—that isn’t really relevant. It’s just—I was born here. My family moved away when I was ten. After Ann moved here, I’d visit. But I haven’t been here for several years. It’s strange to be back. Hard too. With everything that’s happened. But I took an earlier ferry over this morning to see more of the island. So, I am here to say hello, but my visit is more than just that.”

  He swallows, keeps his expression from showing how his pulse has quickened. How much more? he wants to ask. The question lingers in his mouth.

  “Look, Leo—I don’t know what Ann told you about our relationship,” Lillian says softly. “When I said I wanted to talk about the future, I meant that I would like to be part of Sky’s future. I’m here because there is a grandchild whom I don’t know very well. And I guess, perhaps—”

  “Why don’t you know her well?” Leo interrupts. No sense dancing around it.

  The tide waits for no man.

  Lillian breaks their eye contact for the first time. Looks out at the water.

  “I wish I had a simple answer for you. But there isn’t one.”

  “It doesn’t have to be simple,” he presses, but she shakes her head, pauses.

  “I didn’t come here to talk about the past. Just the future,” she says finally. Resolutely. “I don’t know what that means yet, in terms of my involvement in Sky’s life. Certainly, I’d like to see her as soon as it’s convenient.”

  He nods. Not in agreement. More in response to understanding her desire to see her own granddaughter. Fact is though, he’s her guardian. And Lillian doesn’t want to talk about why she wasn’t in Ann’s life. Or Sky’s.

  “I’ll talk to Sky. See how she feels about it. But we can agree to move slowly here. Yes?”

  “I think I have moved slowly. I’ve given her space since the acci—” She stops, clears her throat. “I’m ready to move forward. I wanted to tell you that in person. I know you probably have a lot of questions. But just know that I have Sky’s best interest in mind.”

  She stands before he can respond. “I better go.” She gestures to a line of people filing up the gangway onto the ferry deck. She holds out her hand and after they shake, she turns and calls out a goodbye.

  He watches her find her way to the bow of the boat, where long benches sit in even rows.

  Instead of walking to his car, he sits back down on the bench. Somehow, it’s important that Lillian sees he’s still here.

  That he’s not going anywhere.

  He sits while the boat pulls away from the dock. Dark clouds have formed overhead. The air is suddenly wet, a cold mist rolling off the white-capped bay, sending a shiver through him.

  An old back injury that flares up in bad weather makes him lean forward, elbows on his knees.

  Still, he refuses to leave.

  He sits motionless long after the wake vanishes and the fog swallows the ferry and all he’s left with is a storm brewing around him and a cold, lonely ache settling in the length of his spine.

  * * *

  Later, when Sky comes back from her day with Maggie and Joe, Leo tells her to wash up and meet him outside. He has a job for her.

  Friday nights have become a tightrope walk for Leo.

  Over the last month, this is how the night has unraveled:

  Leo works on Fridays, holed up in the den, hunched over his drafting table for hours. Xavier arrives at the house at five o’clock, give or take fifteen minutes depending on the ferry. Sky spends the day with Maggie, until around the time Xavier walks through the door.

  All three of them together in the small house, at exactly the same time. Sky and Xavier both immediately vying for Leo’s attention.

  So far, it hasn’t gone well.

  Leo learned this by saying or doing something that made Sky go to her room and shut the door or Xavier go for a walk to regroup, one of his favorite words these past weeks.

  Which is why tonight Leo is prepared.

  He sets the outside table for dinner. The sky has cleared since he was on the dock earlier. A perfect night for a cookout. He’s keeping it simple: burgers on the grill. Potato salad. Corn on the cob.

  When Sky skips out
to the patio, he hands her a paper bag full of corn.

  “Start husking,” he says, and she smiles, takes the bag, and settles at the table.

  He glances at her, busies himself with cleaning an ear of corn while he plays with the words he wants to say in his head, trying to make them come out of his mouth in a way that doesn’t alarm her.

  Finally, he gives up. Decides to just spit it out.

  “Your grandmother got in touch with me,” he announces, placing the corn on the table. “She said she’d like to see you.”

  He pauses, waits for her reaction. She meets his eyes, looks back at the corn in her hand, her expression unchanged.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  She shrugs. A noncommittal lift and drop of one shoulder. As though forcing the other shoulder to answer isn’t necessary.

  “I hadn’t met her before today,” he continues. “She seems nice.” He waits. “Is she nice?” he asks finally.

  “I don’t know,” she says plainly.

  “She said you hadn’t seen each other in a while.”

  She shrugs again.

  “Do you know why you haven’t seen her? Did something happen?”

  “Mom said every time she came to the island, they fought. My dad would get mad and tell her that if all they were going to do is fight, then she should stop inviting her. I don’t know anything besides that.”

  Leo sighs. “Okay, well. Would you like to see her? I can set it up.”

  “Do I have to?” she asks, meeting his eyes.

  The question takes him by surprise. So much so that he doesn’t know what to say.

  He thinks about his own grandmother. She never moved from the house his mother had grown up in just outside of Syracuse. A ferry ride and long drive from Ichabod, so they didn’t visit more than a couple times a year. She died when he was eleven, but he remembers the smell of her kitchen. The way she threw her head back when she laughed. The sound of the grandfather clock in her living room.