Nancy
Purge: to get rid of undesirable things
“Thank you for coming with me.” Nancy stood on the overgrown path in front of the Sail Loft.
She really didn’t want to be here.
Behind her she could hear the sea. Now, in March, the unloved garden was a wilderness, but she could see the possibilities.
“It’s what friends are for. I can’t believe you haven’t been here in five years, and I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Alice put her hand on Nancy’s arm.
“After Tom died something changed for me. I suppose I turned away from the life I had when he was alive.”
“I understand. You don’t have to go inside, Nancy. Tell them you don’t want to. Come and live with me instead.”
That was out of the question, but the suggestion gave her the strength she needed. “I have to do this. Lauren is right, it makes sense.”
“Not if it upsets you.”
How much should she say? “If it means I don’t have to sell The Captain’s House, then it’s worth it.” Why hadn’t she considered this option herself? Because she was a coward. “My daughters are smart, both of them.”
And brave.
She couldn’t bear to think what they probably saw that night. Damn Tom and his libertine ways.
Alice was staring at the Sail Loft in silence. “Are you sure about this?”
Nancy paused. “Anyone would think you didn’t want to go inside.”
Alice gave a wan smile. “I hate seeing you hurt, that’s all.”
Nancy patted her on the shoulder and walked ahead. She could have done this on her own, but inviting Alice had been the right thing to do.
If she was really going to move forward, then she needed Alice here.
The key didn’t turn easily in the lock, but whether that was because it was rusty from lack of use or because her hand was shaking, she wasn’t sure.
Finally she unlocked the door and pushed it open.
The shutters were closed and the place smelled of dust and paint, although how it could still smell of paint after so long she had no idea. Dust sheets covered the sofas and there was a lace of cobwebs high on the ceiling. Other than that not much had changed.
An image appeared in her head, disturbingly clear.
She saw Tom, leaning over a dazzled woman, his laughing blue eyes charming her the way he’d charmed Nancy. Had he made promises? Had he lied? Or had he told her that this was the way he was, that he did this with everyone and that although she might feel special now, he would have forgotten her by tomorrow?
She turned and saw Alice sitting on the dusty sofa. “Alice? Are you all right?”
Alice stood up suddenly. “I’m worried about you. Let’s leave right now.”
“We only just got here. Why would we leave?”
Alice’s eyes filled. “You’re my dearest friend. I hate to see you putting yourself through this.”
Nancy felt something stir inside her.
She made a decision.
“Let’s clear him out, Alice. We’ll do it together.” It was time to get rid of the man, starting with his things. Nancy walked through to one of the bedrooms and pulled out a box of Tom’s things. “We should sort through this.”
There was a box of his clothes tucked in the spare room and she dragged it out and flung it into the garden. The feeling of satisfaction was astonishing. It was like shooting adrenaline into a vein.
Alice flinched as if she’d been struck. “Don’t you want to sort through them? There might be things here you want to keep.” She walked into the garden and retrieved a jacket that had spilled onto the overgrown grass. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Don’t you want to hold on to a few memories?”
Nancy wished she could rid herself of the memories as easily as she could rid herself of his clothes. “That’s a jacket, and it’s taking up space. He’s gone, Alice. Keeping his clothes isn’t going to change that.”
She flung open shutters and windows, letting in sea air. The breeze flowed through the rooms, sending a few stray pieces of paper fluttering across the dusty floor.
Today the sky was blue with a promise of summer and she remembered how much she’d once loved being here, in her beach sanctuary.
Why should Tom continue to contaminate a place that had once been special to her?
She was going to strip the whole place back until it was an empty shell, and then she’d build it up again the way she wanted it.
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a scarf and tied it around her hair to protect herself from dust and cobwebs. Then she got to work.
She emptied cupboards, flung clothes into bags and tipped away the contents of drawers. She moved through the rooms like a whirlwind, with Alice shadowing her like a startled rabbit saying things like, “Nancy, are you sure?” and “You’re really throwing this away?”
Nancy continued to pile things in the garden.
When the ground floor was finally empty, she rolled up her sleeves and reached for the bag she’d brought with her. It was going to take more than a bucket of bleach to get Tom out of her life, but at least it was a start.
Cleaning turned out to be therapeutic. She scrubbed and rubbed until sweat clung to her body.
She was aware of Alice next to her, dusting surfaces and shaking out rugs in the garden.
She threw out the old mattresses and scrubbed the floor and the walls.
They needed painting. Maybe she could do that. She hadn’t painted for five years, but a wall was different, wasn’t it?
Finally, when the downstairs rooms were as clean as she could make them, Nancy turned her attention to the top floor.
She’d bought the place for the upstairs studio, with its acres of glass and north light. That was all that had ever interested her. If there had been a whole football team living in the downstairs bedrooms she wouldn’t have known. That must have been where the girls saw Tom if they’d been peeping through the window. What a stupid man he was for not closing the shutters before he did the deed.
Still, at least it meant her precious studio remained uncontaminated.
She took the stairs slowly, almost afraid to reach the top. The first time she’d seen the place she’d gasped aloud and then realized that the Realtor didn’t seem to know what a gem he had on his hands. Because she didn’t want him to push up the price, she’d muttered a lot about rotten rafters and the number of dead mice and then made him a low offer. The previous owner had died, and fortunately the family were keen for a quick sale.
Now, of course, it would be a different matter. Land this close to the beach was at a premium.
The moment Nancy stepped out onto the wide floor boards she felt the same rush of excitement she’d felt when she first saw the place. How could she have stayed away so long? She felt as if she’d neglected a friend.
I’m sorry I abandoned you.
No one had touched the place since her last visit. There was her kettle, still perched on the table in one corner where she’d left it alongside half a jar of coffee, the contents of which had solidified. When she was painting she’d gone hours without taking a break, oblivious to the world around her. She’d finish when the light started to fade and then she’d make herself a drink and sit in the garden on her favorite rickety chair and listen to the sea.
The tide came and went, washing away the debris from the previous day and depositing more, licking at the sand, changing the shape of the landscape.
She imagined herself as the tide, washing Tom out of her life. It was a surprisingly satisfying exercise.
Alice had followed her upstairs but Nancy ignored her, lost in the moment.
Her footsteps echoed as she walked the length of her studio. This room soared up into the rafters, giving a feeling of space and light. She glanced up, checking the place was still fundamentally sound. There were no signs of water damage. No ominous stains on the wall that might have suggested a deeper problem.
Her paints were where she’d left them. She checked them and saw that although some of the watercolors had dried up, the oil paints were fine.
Now, with distance, she could barely remember that burning desire and elemental excitement that had driven her to put paint on canvas.
The fire was gone and there was no longer a need to escape, so what reason was there to pick up a brush?
She heard the sound of an engine and then the slam of a car door and female laughter.
Lauren and Jenna.
Jenna had been teaching, and Lauren had spent the day scouring the island for bits and pieces that she could use to transform the house.
Nancy moved closer to the glass and watched as they walked together up the overgrown path. She saw Lauren pause to point something out and Jenna nod in agreement.
Sisters.
Would life have been easier if she’d had a sister? It would have been good to have someone to share things with. Someone you could trust no matter what. Someone by your side through thick and thin.
She’d been wrong to worry about her children so much. They had each other, and they always had. Who would have guessed that it had been Lauren who was the ringleader? The adventurous one?
Did you know that, Tom?
She was certain that he hadn’t known. He’d spent his life thinking about himself.
She saw them pause in the doorway, as if they were afraid to enter.
Jenna said something and Lauren pulled a face. Then she took her sister’s hand and they vanished from view as they stepped into the house.
“Mom?” Jenna’s voice floated up the stairs.
“Up here.” Nancy cleared her throat and pulled herself together. If the girls had bad memories, then she’d find a way to put new ones there.
She heard the clatter of their feet on the stairs and they appeared in the loft room, so alike and yet so different.
Her girls.
For years she’d bracketed them with Tom. Because the three of them had spent so much time together, she’d been unable to separate them in her head. She’d allowed that feeling of being excluded to persist when they’d reached adulthood, but she saw now that if there had been a rift then, she’d been the cause of it. She’d been afraid that confessing the truth would drive them further apart, but it had brought them closer.
“You were supposed to wait so we could do this together,” Jenna said as Lauren put her bag down on the floor.
“You shouldn’t have done this on your own.” And then she noticed Alice. “Oh, you had Alice with you. That’s good.”
It was good, Nancy thought. Bringing Alice had been the right decision.
“There’s still plenty to do,” she said. “Getting this place habitable isn’t going to be easy. And that’s before we get started on The Captain’s House.” The thought of it should have exhausted her, but she felt energized. Instead of feeling defeated, she felt hopeful.
She felt like flinging open the upstairs windows and yelling, Do you see me, Tom? You didn’t crush me.
Lauren pulled out a sketchbook. “You’ve done a wonderful job of clearing out downstairs. It makes it easier to visualize everything. If three of us are going to live here we are going to need closet space, but I don’t want to overcrowd the rooms.”
“If it’s carpentry you need, then we should ask Scott.” Jenna strolled over to the canvases stacked against the wall. “He did a great job on the house.”
Lauren said nothing.
Nancy studied her daughter, noticing the shadows under her eyes.
It was still early days, of course, but they needed to do what they could to reduce those shadows. “I can’t ask Scott for any more favors.”
“You mean because Lauren told him you’re no longer selling the house?” Jenna glanced up from the paintings. “House sales fall through all the time, Mom. Fact of life. I’m sure he understood.”
“Not because of that. Because I owe him enough already.”
Lauren grabbed a bag and started clearing out the old coffee jar and other detritus that had been sitting gathering dust for years. “What exactly do you owe him, Mom?”
Nancy hesitated. She could have brushed it away. Scott wouldn’t say anything, she was sure of that, but it was as if her first confession had opened a door she couldn’t easily close.
Might as well empty the closets of all the skeletons, she thought.
Did it matter that Alice would hear?
No. It would probably be a good thing if she knew the truth.
“I owe Scott,” she said, “because he was there the night your father died. He helped me. Risked his life.”
Jenna paused with her hand on one of the canvases. “Risked his life how?”
“There was a hurricane—”
“We know. That was why the tree came down on his car.”
Nancy stared out the window, surprised by how vivid a memory could be. “The call came late afternoon. By then no one was on the water. Houses and business were boarded up. The ferry had stopped running hours before, and the airport was closed. There was no way to get to the mainland. I asked a couple of people if they’d take me, but they refused.” She remembered walking past the harbor and feeling the force of the wind tearing at her. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. “Then I saw Scott. I knew him by sight. We’d never spoken. But everyone knew he was the best sailor around. I asked him if he’d take me to the mainland and he agreed.”
Lauren looked stunned. “In a hurricane?”
“I expected him to refuse. I wasn’t sure which of us was most crazy. I’ll never forget that crossing.”
“I remember that night.” Jenna said. “It was terrifying. When I called to check on you, you told me you were safe. I assumed that meant you were home. So Scott dropped you off and then came back to Martha’s Vineyard?”
“No. By the time we arrived, the storm was much worse. Maybe Scott thought he’d diced with death enough for one night, but I don’t think it was that. I think he didn’t want to leave me. His kindness is something I’ll never forget.” Nancy stared out over the sea. Today it was calm. It was hard to imagine it could ever be as angry as it had been that night. “Scott came with me in the cab to the hospital, and I was too pathetic and grateful for the support to send him away.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Jenna let the paintings fall back against the wall. “I hate the thought of you going through that alone. I would have been there for you, Mom. I would have gone with you.”
“And risk your life in that terrible storm? One dead family member was enough. And anyway, the police had already told me your father wasn’t alone in the car. I didn’t want you to know about that.”
She heard Alice make a small sound. Surprise? Shock?
Jenna crossed the room in two strides and wrapped her arms around her. “Mom—”
Alice sat down hard on the one chair in the room. “Oh, Nancy—”
Nancy leaned on Jenna, breathing in the soft floral scent her daughter always wore.
She was so affectionate, so warm, so like Tom.
No, not like Tom. Tom had used warmth as a snare, and affection as currency.
Jenna gave freely.
“Wait—” Lauren rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “Dad was with a woman the night he died?”
“Yes.” Nancy gave Jenna’s shoulder a squeeze and stepped away. “She worked in the hotel he often stayed in when he was off island. One in a long line of women who rode in that car with him.” She noticed that Alice’s face had lost all its color. “Are you surprised? You shouldn’t be. That was my Tom. That was who he was, although of course not many people knew that side of him. That was probably my fault.”
It had been her private shame and humiliation.
Maybe she should have hung him out to dry and let him deal with the fallout, but if she’d done that, her girls would have been hurt.
She felt Lauren’s hand on her arm. “Scott stayed with you that night?”
“Through all of it. The hurricane, the hospital, the police, arrangements to return the body to the Vineyard—We stayed in a motel and he listened to me storm and rage. He didn’t leave my side. Then he brought me home and we never mentioned it again.”
“And you never told anyone.”
“No. Tom died in the car the night of the hurricane. As far as anyone knew, he was on his own. It was considered a tragedy and half the island were at his funeral, but you know that part of course.”
She saw that Alice’s cheeks were wet.
Jenna must have seen the same thing because she rushed across with tissues. “Oh, Alice, you’re such a good friend. Mom is so lucky to have you. And Scott.” She turned to her sister. “Can you believe he did that for Mom?”
Lauren was staring into space, lost in thought. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I can.”
Nancy wished she knew what her daughter was thinking. “I wouldn’t have made it through that night without him.”
Lauren took a deep breath. “Is that why you were selling Scott the house? Because you felt you owed him?”
“I was selling because I needed the money and he was willing to pay my price. Scott never had a home of his own. I felt as if I was giving something back to him.” But in the end her feelings for the house had proved more powerful. It seemed that obligation and responsibility couldn’t be so easily overridden. She felt a twinge of guilt. Scott had been good to her.
Family might be complicated, but not having one seemed a worse option to her.
Lauren was suddenly very quiet. It was Jenna who spoke.
“Will you be all right living here, Mom? I’m worried it will be hard for you. Not only because of the limited space, but the memories.”
It should have felt hard, but it didn’t.
Shedding secrets had lightened the load she’d been carrying. She felt ready to sprint forward with her life instead of trudging.
“It won’t be hard.” Nancy glanced down at the garden. She already had plans for it. They would need plants acclimatized to wind and salt. Instead of a lawn, she was going to have a wildflower meadow. Cosmos, poppies, daisies and lupines. She wanted to look out her window and see birds and butterflies. She’d call Ben and ask him to help. He had more knowledge about coastal planting than anyone, except perhaps herself. Together they could transform this small perfect patch of land into something as spectacular as the garden at The Captain’s House. It would be different, of course, but different was good. The thought of working side by side with him lifted her spirits. She enjoyed his company, his smile, his calm manner.
“I can’t believe the pile of stuff outside the house,” Jenna said. “I was worried we’d have a fight on our hands to persuade you to throw anything away. Did Alice do it for you?”
“No, I did it.” Nancy smiled. “It turns out it’s never too late to learn new skills.”