Chapter 33
The waves rose and fell, rocking the boat gently. It was so peaceful now, the shadows of the day stretching long across the boardwalk, the water splashing and sucking at the dock rhythmically, the wind making a hushing sound as it ran through the tall grasses nearby. Rose had remained in the boat and watched her husband go inside their house. No, she corrected, her house. Her parent’s beautiful house, her family’s home, and he acted like it was his. It was funny, really.
“Ha!” she laughed out loud, a hard sound. She rubbed her thighs, absently pushing up her khaki cotton skirt as she did so that it was bunched up around her waist, and turned to stare out at the water again. So soothing here. Beauty inside, beauty outside. In a minute, she’d go in and talk to Dr. Omin. It was important to speak to him. There was something important to tell him. What was it again? Something about a girl.
Oh, it was Keeley, that’s who it was. Keeley, who had stolen away her Michael. But Michael really loved her, not Keeley. He was just being nice to the girl. No, Michael and Rose were meant to be, that was clear. He was so sweet to her, sweeter than any boy had ever been. When she talked, he really listened to her, looked right into her eyes. He may have glanced away that first night for a second, because Keeley was such a showoff. He couldn’t help it. It was Keeley’s fault.
But it was okay, Michael was going to break it off with Keeley soon, so he could be with Rose. Whenever Keeley wasn’t with Michael, which was often now that she was spending a lot more time with her loser friends, Rose would visit Michael at his house. She’d walk by a couple times first, to be sure he was alone. Then she’d walk right up to his front door. He was always glad to see her; offered her lemonade and Chips Ahoy cookies every time and they’d sit out on the back deck together. His parents were so friendly and welcoming, too. They must be thrilled to have a decent well-raised girl in their house, rather than that low-class whore.
Rose loved sitting out on the deck with him, just sitting and talking about sailing, which he loved almost as much as she did. She could sit with him all day. She hated to leave, hated that Keeley might stop by and ruin everything. The only thing that made leaving tolerable was what he’d always say as he waved goodbye: “Come back whenever. Mi casa su casa.” Of course he was in love with her; it was obvious.
“Rose? Are you coming in?”
Her head snapped up and she blinked. She looked over at her darkening house and saw the silhouette of her husband standing in the doorway. Oh, Phil. Right, it was getting late. Why did he have to bother her? She was just relaxing. What had she been thinking about? Her memory was dodgy lately, her thoughts like half-remembered dreams that only floated farther away when she tried to recall them. Oh, right, call Dr. Omin.
“Oh, fine! I’m coming in,” she called back, not bothering to disguise her irritation. She stood up in the boat, and was surprised by how stiff her legs were. How long had she been sitting out here? What time was it? Was it too late to call Dr. Omin? Maybe she’d call Jackie instead. What was that, that strange unfinished feeling? There was something she needed to remember. It was just-
As she stepped onto the dock, it bloomed wide open in her mind. Hannah O’Brien was on the island. Keeley’s daughter, as beautiful and as dangerous as her mother, was here right now. Spawn of the woman who had taken away every man Rose had ever loved. Keeley, who was still so beautiful, barely touched by age’s clawing hand, and who was still loved in spite of her wild and destructive ways. Rose couldn’t understand it, never had. It sickened her, how wrong it was, how deeply unfair and cosmically wrong.
And now, during Rose’s only peaceful time all year, when she shored up her defenses against the hard world, when she found hope again in the last defiant wildflowers in the fields, the dancing glittering light playing on cobalt and gunmetal waves, in the rich mellow colors that draped the island’s landscape in autumn, that woman’s daughter was here. She would ruin everything.
Rose turned where she’d stopped on the dock and looked down-island.
“Are you coming in? I thought I’d make us spaghetti. Fat free, I promise!” Phil shouted from where he still stood at the door to the house. Rose looked back at him. He still had good posture; she had to give him that. But everything else was gone, if not in him, in her. She hadn’t noticed it while it was happening, this loss of love. Had it happened over time, or did it disappear the day she noticed it was gone?
She shook her head. Realizing he probably couldn’t see her that well in the fading light, she shouted back. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry. I think I’ll take a walk.”
He moved forward, stepping away from the door and across the porch to the steps leading down to the boardwalk. “Are you sure? You haven’t eaten very much today. But…, if you really want to take a walk, hold on. I’ll go get a jacket.”
She waved her hand swiftly and shook her head more violently, but he started to turn away. “No! Phil! Phil!”
He paused and turned. “Yeah?”
“I need some time alone. Just a little. I think I’ll just take a walk on my own, if that’s okay.”
“Oh, okay. Are you sure? Okay…., hey, maybe I’ll make the spaghetti anyway. You might be hungry by the time you get back.”
“Great, good idea!” She shouted the last with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Anything to have him too busy to wonder where she was and what she was doing.
“Okay, I will then!” He gave a little wave. “Have a nice walk and don’t stay out too late. It gets dark quick now.”
To avoid any further questions, she forced herself into motion, walking swiftly up the dock to the boardwalk and then turning down-island, giving him a brief smile and a half wave. She kept walking all the way to where the boardwalk turned right and the island itself curved, feeling his eyes on her the whole way. Once she was certain she was out of sight, she slowed to a stop.
What was she going to do? Tell the girl to leave? No, that would only make her dig in. And what about that man that had been with her? A boyfriend? Or just another lover? Like mother, like daughter. God, how the tongues had wagged on the island that year, Keeley showing up in late June holding a baby. Her baby! And she was only nineteen! Her trampy friends had acted like it was normal, that they all just loved playing house with “their” baby. “Barefooter Baby!” they said all the time, showing up at all the parties at the island like it was no big deal, holding up the baby like she was a trophy.
She hated it, the way they had taken the name she’d given them as an insult, and made it a badge of honor, hated their braying laughter and their endless filthy jokes. But nothing bothered Rose more than when she overheard a conversation at one of her crowd’s dock parties that first summer that implied that the baby was Michael’s. How dare they sully his name with such a disgusting implication? Of course he hadn’t made love to that slut! He’d been waiting for Rose, waiting to tell her how he really felt when-
Rose shook her head violently. No, she would not think about that. She would not let herself. He was here, wasn’t he? All around her, everywhere, he was here. She could see his eyes in that dark blue water, watching her, waiting for her still.
No, Hannah wasn’t Michael’s daughter. She was from some man Keeley had met in a bar or at a party, some one night stand. Rose had also heard rumors that Keeley had considered an abortion, which sounded just like her.
Rose started walking again. She knew exactly what she had to do. She had to tell the poor girl the truth. She had stood by idly for far too long. Hannah might stand a chance, might overcome her mother’s depraved influence, if she only knew the truth.
“Beauty inside, beauty outside,” she chanted as she walked, using her favorite mantra to bolster her resolve. She really didn’t know what she would do if it wasn’t for Dr. Omin. These routines and mantras had made all the difference. She felt so much safer now. It was all going to be okay. “Beauty inside, beauty outside,” she trilled more loudly.
Halfway down the island, right where the houses became smaller more modest bungalows, was Michael’s house, a tall gray shingled house that stood straight and proud in its little sandy lot. She stopped in front of it and stared up at the windows. She should stop by and say hi. She walked up to the front door and was surprised to find in closed, as it usually stood open with only the screen door as a barrier.
She knocked and waited. No one answered. She stepped back and looked up again at the house. Where were they? Maybe they’d gone to the mainland for dinner. That was probably it. But why shut the door? She opened the screen door and tried twisting the main door’s handle. It was locked. Stranger and stranger. No one locked their doors on the island, only over the winter.
She walked around to the back deck, noting that the windows were all closed, which was also bizarre. Maybe they’d gone home early? But why didn’t Michael tell her? Approaching the deck, she saw that their rough-hewn trestle table and pretty willow chairs were gone, and in their place was a cheap white plastic set of deck furniture. Rose’s eyes grew wide and her hands went involuntarily to her mouth. Plastic! It was horrible! She would have to say something when she saw him; rib him a little about this faux pas.
Walking slowly back across their sandy lot to the boardwalk and observing that their dock was empty, the boat gone, she had that fuzzy off-kilter feeling again. Wasn’t there something else she was supposed to be doing? She thought hard as she walked down-island, unable to pin it down. It was growing dark and her parents would wonder where she was. And the island was so quiet. Where was everyone? As she started to slow down and turn back, she saw lamplight in the windows of a house three doors down. Was that-
Memory flashed into her mind, Hannah O’Brien was here! That’s right! How had she forgotten? She shook her head as if to shake something off, and put her hand on her head, letting it slide down her hair to where it ended at her neck. Her beautiful long hair was gone, missing. Someone had chopped it off.
She stopped, feeling dizzy, and took a long shuddering breath. But of course. It was cut just like Jackie’s, though the haircut looked better on her friend. Rose took another long breath. Something was wrong with her lately, out of focus. She had to see Dr. Omin soon. The calls weren’t enough. But right now, she had to go and talk to Keeley’s daughter, had to find a way to tell her the truth about her mother. And she knew she had to hurry before the fog moved in again, reach the girl while things were still clear.
Rose moved forward again, speeding up to a light jog, heading down the boardwalk toward the low flickering light of a hurricane lamp that stood near the window of the house, beckoning her to complete her mission.