My Kind of People

by Lisa Duffy

  Officer Mike looks at Maggie then Lillian. “Either of you? Woman is midthirties, maybe. Tall, thin. Brunette.” He pulls a picture from the back of the notebook. “Owner had this picture. She called me back to the farm after she stumbled across it. I guess she was taking a picture of one of her horses and the woman happened to be in the background. Take a look.”

  He hands the picture to Leo. Maggie and Lillian look over his shoulder.

  It’s a close-up of a black horse. Far off in the distance, there’s a woman, looking the other way, only her profile in the picture.

  “I wish it was closer,” Maggie says.

  Leo nods. “I don’t think I know her, but there’s something about her that’s so familiar. I just can’t place it.”

  Lillian doesn’t say anything.

  “Do you know her?” Officer Mike asks.

  There’s a long pause. Lillian’s eyes don’t leave the picture. She doesn’t blink or breathe, it seems.

  “No,” she says simply. In a voice that doesn’t leave room for discussion.

  “Can I hold on to this?” Leo asks, putting the picture on the table. “Maybe it’ll come to me. And the girls will be home tomorrow. I’ll show it to them.”

  Officer Mike nods, turns to leave. “You have my card. I’ll call you if any new information comes in.”

  They’re silent, listening to his footsteps through the house, the sound of the door closing the only sound in the room.

  Lillian stands, crosses the room, and studies a picture that’s framed on the wall. It’s an eight-by-ten family photograph of Brian, Ann, and Sky.

  “I think you should sit down,” she says, picking up the picture of the woman that’s sitting on the table, and looking up at Leo.

  47

  Sit down?” Leo pulls out a chair.

  He’s tired. And irritable.

  He hasn’t even called Xavier to tell him what’s happened. He’s afraid to—this is exactly what Xavier was talking about when he said they weren’t cut out for this parenting gig.

  One woman dead. Two girls in a hospital.

  All his fault.

  Lillian glances at Maggie. “I have to tell you something. I don’t know if you want anyone else here—”

  “Oh, I can leave!” Maggie stands.

  “No—” Leo puts a hand on her arm. “There’s nothing you can’t be here for.” He is surprised by how forcefully he believes this. “Something to do with this woman?”

  He takes the picture from Lillian, the light hitting it at a different angle. The tilt of the woman’s face catching his eye.

  So familiar.

  “Her name is Charlotte Waters,” Lillian says. “She was my daughter’s best friend. They went to high school together, back when we lived in New York.”

  Leo brings the picture closer, studies it. “I met her best friend. Once. Years ago. She had light hair. And her name was different—” He stops, embarrassed.

  He should remember the name of the only woman he ever slept with.

  Lillian takes out her phone, searches for a moment, and shows Leo a picture. It’s of Ann, young and smiling. An arm around the shoulders of another girl. Blond and young and smiling as well. He recognizes her immediately.

  He can’t speak.

  “She went by Charlie,” Lillian says softly.

  And Leo can only nod.

  Maggie leans over, looks at Lillian’s phone. “Oh my God, she’s the spitting image of Sky.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Is that her…” She looks at Lillian.

  “Birth mother.” Lillian nods, takes a deep breath. “I’m going to just start at the beginning.” She looks at Leo, clears her throat.

  “Ann was a difficult teenager. Mood swings. Manic behavior. We finally got a diagnosis. Various disorders, but she took her medication, and she seemed better. Then she met Brian and moved here. Our relationship was already strained. I was sober then, but she was angry. She blamed me for pretty much everything that was hard in her life.” She gave them a sad smile. “My side has a history. Alcoholism. Depression. Schizophrenia. Bipolar—you name it. Ann didn’t want me to be a part of her life here. She said she was a different person with Brian. She even changed her name when she moved here. From Mackenzie Ann—Mac to all of her high school friends—to just Ann. She told me she felt different here. With Brian. She said she no longer felt crazy. Her word. Not mine.”

  “She wasn’t crazy,” Leo says. “Ann was great. Happy, it seemed.”

  Lillian nods. “I’m sure she was happy.” She pauses. “She wanted a big family. But she was convinced she would pass on these diseases. That’s what she called them—our family diseases. She told Brian she couldn’t have children. They started looking into adoption.”

  She pauses. “Can I have a glass of water?”

  He pushes his chair back, but Maggie puts a hand on his arm and stands. They’re quiet while Maggie fills a glass and places it in front of Lillian, who brings it to her mouth.

  Leo notices her hand shaking when she puts the glass on the table.

  “Ann called me one day. We hadn’t spoken in almost a year. She wouldn’t return my calls.” She takes a breath. “She told me she was a new mother. I was excited, of course. Thinking they had adopted. Then she was quiet on the other end. I asked her what was wrong. And she told me she had a secret that she needed me to keep. That I had failed her as a mother, but now she needed me to be there for her. And she wanted me to be part of the baby’s life.”

  Lillian takes a sip of the water, pauses again, then looks at Leo.

  “She told me Charlie had contacted her. She was modeling at the time. Had no idea she was pregnant until the photographer told her to skip dinner because she looked bloated. It was too late for an abortion.”

  Lillian traces her finger on the rim of the glass, her eyes filling.

  “Apparently the two hatched a plan. Charlie stayed in the artist studio on that farm. I guess you can walk there from here and not be seen. Brian never knew anything about it. Ann took classes, became a midwife. The hurricane hit the night Charlie went into labor. The plan had always been to leave the baby at the fire station, where Ann would say she found it. The storm made it easier with the station empty. Charlie left when the ferry started running again. The owner of the studio thought she was going back to the mainland to have the baby.”

  Lillian stops, quietly sips the water. “I was stunned. I had no idea what to say.” She brings the water to her mouth again. Then stares at the glass after it’s back on the table.

  “What did you do?” Maggie asks finally.

  “What could I do?” Lillian shrugs. “Ann was elated. Didn’t see anything wrong with any of it. Charlie had a modeling career. She was always a screwed-up kid. Hated her family—there was a reason the two of them got along.” She sighed. “They agreed to keep it a secret. Ann said she was only telling one other person in this world and it was me. And she was only doing that because I knew Charlie so well. She thought I might see a resemblance. She didn’t have to worry about that with Brian. He’d only met Charlie once when she came to the island. I guess everyone was pretty drunk.”

  Leo leans over and puts his face in his hands. He looks up after a minute. Lillian is watching him.

  “I thought it was wrong. All of it. I begged Ann to tell the truth. Told her I wasn’t sure I could be part of their life—Sky’s life—unless she did that. And she wouldn’t. She refused. She said it wasn’t possible. That two lives would be ruined—Charlie’s and the father’s, if she did that.”

  “And the father? Did she tell you who he was?” he asks.

  He already knows it’s him. He can do the math. Count back nine months from when Sky was born. It never occurred to him to do such a thing because he never heard from the woman again. He never even told Brian about it. He was too embarrassed.

  Lillian looks down. “No. She said Charlie wouldn’t tell her. And I believed her. But I don’t anymore.”

  Maggie raises her eyebrows
. “Why? Do you know who it is?”

  Lillian doesn’t answer. She just looks at Leo.

  “There’s something you asked me a few months ago. About Ann. If she was taking any medication. I told you I didn’t know. And that was true. The last time I was here, I noticed that Ann was acting strange. I confronted her, and she admitted that she was on and off with taking her medication—she said it made her feel like a zombie. We argued. I told Brian not taking it wasn’t an option for Ann. That if she didn’t, Sky wasn’t safe. They asked me to leave, and I did. They both ended any communication with me. That was two years ago.” She pauses. “Then out of the blue, Ann called me. I missed the call. Only got the voice mail. She was angry. Ranting about how I’d cursed her for life. And now Brian was leaving her. I called back. Tried Brian. Called again and again. I was going to call the police, but they called me first. It was the night of the accident.”

  Leo shakes his head. “She said he was leaving her? They were on a date. For their anniversary.”

  “I think he may have given her the same ultimatum that I did. That she needed to get help. Or lose him. It doesn’t matter really. But she was driving that night. I can’t help but wonder if she wasn’t in the middle of an episode.”

  Leo stands now, almost knocking the chair over. Anger surging through him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? Now you just dump all this on me?”

  Lillian doesn’t react. “I didn’t know you were involved as anything other than her guardian. It didn’t seem worthwhile to—Ann was so ashamed of her disease. So angry at me for insisting that she take her medication. And then I came here, and everyone loved her. And Brian. I wasn’t going to tarnish her memory. The reputation of their family.”

  Lillian glances at the family picture on the wall. “I think something wonderful was created from a difficult situation. I wish it had started with the truth. I think it would have been an easier life for my daughter. For Brian. And Sky. You have a chance to fix that. To start over. I hope you do.”

  His mind is racing. Lillian stands to leave, and he puts his hand up.

  “Wait a second. And what about you? Does this change things? Do you still want custody?”

  Lillian blinks. “Custody? Why in the world would you think I want custody?”

  “You moved here. I just assumed that was the ultimate goal—”

  “Goal? Oh, heavens no.” Lillian lets out a long sigh. “I already raised a child, Leo. As a single mother, no less. These past years I’ve been so consumed with work and worrying about Ann and trying to be a good partner to someone incapable of being in a relationship—no. I have no interest in custody. Don’t get me wrong. I’m here for Sky in whatever way I can be—whatever you need, as well. But this time in my life is really going to be about me. It’s actually a bit overdue.”

  “Amen to that,” Maggie mutters.

  Lillian crosses the kitchen and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Call if you need anything,” she says and walks through the house and out the door.

  Leo sits in the chair, stares blankly at the table.

  Maggie clears her throat. “I feel like I’m missing something here.”

  Leo looks at her. “She’s mine,” he says softly. So soft Maggie blinks and he wonders if she’s heard him.

  “Yours?” she asks finally. “But how—I mean—I always thought you were— I just didn’t know you were into—”

  “Women? I’m not. Unless I’ve had a bottle of tequila the same night I bury my father.” He runs his hands over his face, stunned. He stands quickly, pushing the chair back abruptly.

  “I need to tell Xavier,” he blurts, turning and looking for his keys.

  “Now?” Maggie asks.

  “Yes, now! Look—I have to talk to him. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Sky. She’s in the hospital until tomorrow. I’ll be back first thing in the morning to get her—”

  “Don’t rush. I had already decided to take the day off. Sky can come back here with me. She’ll be just fine. Just call over and make sure they’ll release her to me.”

  He doesn’t even bother packing a bag. Just leans over and gives Maggie a quick hug and he’s out the door. Running, it seems.

  Though he’s not sure if he’s running toward something.

  Or away.

  48

  Before Sky leaves the hospital, Frankie makes her promise that she’ll go to the easel. Her back is sore, and she has some scrapes on her from crawling in the woods, but the doctor said she’s ready to go home.

  “I wish you were going home too,” Sky says. “I hate leaving you alone here.”

  Frankie looks so small in the large room with her own bed empty next to where Frankie is propped up, a pillow wedged under her arm.

  “My mother will be here any minute. Go before you’re trapped.” Frankie smirks. “They’re only keeping me an extra night anyway. Seriously—you need to call me the minute you’re back from the easel. I’m dying to know if she left anything.” She winces after she says it. “Bad choice of words. You know what I mean though.”

  “I’ll try,” she says, giving Frankie a quick hug when she hears Maggie’s voice in the hallway.

  “Try hard!” Frankie whispers, squeezing her hand. She knows Sky is afraid to go back to the woods.

  She’ll have to pass the tree house. Or what was the tree house. Now it’s probably just a black patch of ground. Smoky and ruined.

  Maggie meets her in the hallway, waves the sheets of paper in her hand. “Got your walking papers,” she says, slinging an arm around Sky’s shoulders. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

  Maggie is cheery today. More cheery than usual. A smile on her face that wobbles now and then, as though it’s tired and needs a rest. Her voice chirpy and bright. All of it makes Sky’s heart race because she knows it’s because Leo isn’t here to pick her up.

  He called her on the hospital phone yesterday and said he had to go to the mainland for an emergency. He sounded far away, the call dropping every other word until she told him she could barely hear him, and then he said something else and all she could make out was the word back.

  All night she thought about that word. Ran through the list of things he could have said.

  I’ll be back.

  See you when I get back.

  I’m not coming back.

  It’s the last one that sticks in her mind now. She wouldn’t come back either if she were Leo. Not after she lied and then almost burned down the forest. And the woman—her throat closes every time she thinks about that.

  “Here we are,” Maggie says, and points to a car waiting by the curb. She’s relieved to see Joe in the driver’s seat.

  She can always count on Joe to be Joe. He’s never extra cheery. Not even when her parents died.

  “Hi, Sport,” he says when she gets in the back seat. “They finally got sick of you here, huh?” He winks when she smiles and pulls away from the curb.

  She closes her eyes, rests her head against the seat. She doesn’t know if Maggie takes the hint that she doesn’t want to talk, because Joe starts rambling about the house, rattling off the stuff the crew has been doing.

  She doesn’t open her eyes. Doesn’t speak.

  Is he coming back?

  That’s what she wants to ask. But she can’t make the words come out of her mouth.

  * * *

  It’s almost lunchtime when she wakes up after taking a nap in the den. In the kitchen, Maggie is at the table, flipping through a magazine. The box Joe made for her paintings is on the counter.

  Maggie smiles when she sees her in the doorway, gestures for her to come in.

  “Joe brought this back from the cliff while you were sleeping. He’s had it in his garage since the night of the fire. He still has your easel, but he said there are some things that belong to you in here.” Maggie stands, puts her hand on the lid of the box. “I’m going to be outside on the patio. Call me if you need me.” She walks over and kisses the top of Sky�
��s head, squeezes her arm.

  After the door shuts, Sky walks over, lifts the lid.

  Inside is the unfinished painting Frankie had left on the easel. The one of Sky on the speckled pony. The original photograph resting on top of it.

  She takes them out, squinting at what she sees underneath them.

  The box should be empty. Instead, there is a package, wrapped in plain white paper and tied with string.

  She carefully lifts it out, the smell of dried paint drifting up to her. She unties the knot, pulls the string until it slides off, the two sides of the white paper opening to reveal a painting. Several more sit underneath.

  She holds the top one in front of her.

  It’s a painting of two women at a table. Leaning into each other. Both blond. One of them is her mother. The one who adopted her. The one who raised her.

  The other woman is pregnant, a hand resting on her middle. She’s crying, her profile wet with tears on her cheek.

  She studies the pregnant woman. She could be looking at a picture of herself if the woman’s hair was brown, and her skin a darker shade. She remembers Frankie’s words about the woman.

  She puts the painting aside, looks at the next one.

  A woodstove sits in the center, a fire burning inside. Behind the stove is a window, a storm raging outside from the way the trees bend and the leaves scatter in the wind.

  The next painting is of a baby in a basket on a table. She knows she’s the one in the basket. And in the belly of the woman in the painting.

  The mother she never met until the other night.

  Just minutes before she died.

  * * *

  She puts all the paintings on the table. There are three of them. Lined up together, they tell the story of how she was born.

  The screen door opens. Maggie’s face appears.

  “Are you okay—” Maggie stops when she sees the pictures, steps inside, and walks over to the table.

  “It was her,” she says, and Maggie nods, studying the paintings. She picks up the one of the two women at the table and glances from Sky to the painting.