MAVIS LOVED FIREWORKS. This year, Mr. Dane had offered her the tiny balcony outside his office, away from the crowd. So sweet— though surely it was just a way to butter her up, so she wouldn’t complain about that new croquet court he’d built on public land. She was Joe’s sister, after all.
And as Joe’s sister, she needed to stay by his side tonight. Mémé had already gone to bed, exhausted by a string of sleepless nights tending her son.
When James knocked, hope bubbled inside her—maybe she could sneak up to the Inn after all. She opened the door, letting in the sound of crickets chirping—a pleasant change from hour after hour of jagged breathing.
James looked first at the red armchair—which Joe hadn’t sat in for several days. Giving his arm a squeeze, Mavis steered him over to the hospital bed and the ladder-back chair. James dropped onto it, though he didn’t slip his hand inside Joe’s like Mavis would’ve done.
Underneath the shiny bed frame, Gumbo’s tail thumped in welcome—but he didn’t raise his head from his two paws. He’d been there all day, as if trying to soak up some of Joe’s pain.
James had to clear his throat a few times before asking, “How you doing, brother?”
Joe didn’t respond. He’d been grouchy all afternoon, the pain talking, but twenty minutes ago when Mavis had offered him another shot, he’d said no—because James might stop by. So she couldn’t leave just yet; James wouldn’t know what to do if Joe asked for more pain pills or just started thrashing around again. Instead she melted away, back into her laundry room, where Hunter Moody’s second-best black shirt had been lying half-pressed since noon. Moving the iron mechanically over heavy cotton, she’d be able to hear if Joe needed her.
James tried again. “I came to get your approval on something.”
“Why?” Joe’s voice was reedy. “Can’t exactly take you out anymore.”
“Never could.”
Joe didn’t rise to the ancient challenge.
“Sheila thinks I should organize a sit-in to protect the trees,” James continued. “I don’t—”
“Sheila’s usually right.”
“So you think it’s worth doing then?”
“Who cares what I think?”
“I’m just—”
“Jesus Christ, handle this yourself!”
Mavis gasped. Joe never swore—he needed more pain meds.
She was just about to go to him when James spoke again, so softly she had to angle her ear toward the doorway to catch his words.
“Remember the first time we got drunk? We met on the dividing path, just before sunset. . . I’d stolen a measly two beers from the fridge. You brought a whole bottle of rum.”
“Uncle Martin. . . never noticed.”
“How old were we—fifteen?” James chuckled. “Surprised we both made it home that night.”
“I threw up. Burial ground,” Joe said. “Sacrilege.”
“You never told me that!”
Mavis smelled scorching—and quickly lifted the iron off the black fabric before it burned a hole right through the cloth. She set it down, shut it off, and crept over to the doorway, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Next morning,” James was saying, “Dad made me cut firewood. Man, that hand saw screeched! Felt like I was sawing apart my brain. I never got that drunk, ever again.”
“Me neither. Too bad—might’ve kept the cancer germ away.”
Tell more old stories, Mavis begged James silently.
“Skinny-dipping in the reservoir,” James said. “How did we ever get away with that? Mavis followed us that one night, but we bought her silence with raspberries. Even though she’d probably already eaten her fill.” Mavis, remembering, felt warm tears divert to follow her smile lines.
“My mother almost caught us once too,” James continued. “One of those full moon swims. Such a great swimming hole, especially since it was off limits. Only place you and I went on the east side of the island. . . it always seemed nicer over here.”
“Fewer people.”
“And your family accepted me. Mom. . .”
“She outgrew her prejudice.”
“Yes, she did. Even talked Mrs. Allen into seating the white kids on the wrong side of that stupid line—the one Pierce drew on the classroom floor.”
“Would’ve worked, too, if he hadn’t. . .”
“Staged a sit-in,” James finished. “That’s why Sheila’s idea seems so—childish. But she says it’s at least ten days before she’ll get the land trust takeover in front of a judge, so I don’t know what else to do.”
“Franklin?”
“Mayor Frank can barely organize his socks these days. And I just don’t know who else islanders would listen to, other than—”
“You.” Before Mavis could think, she walked over to James and set a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll listen to you.” The muscles beneath his T-shirt were violin-string tight.
James turned to look up at her. “Even though I got fired for—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He shook his head. “Barb’s been badmouthing me around town.”
“Apologize yet?” Joe asked.
“She’s the one who threw me out! Believed Mayor Frank, rather than trusting—”
“Pretend she’s a boat,” Joe said, eyes closed. “Go make it right.”
Mavis giggled, but James pushed his left thumb into his scar. When he turned his head away, she could see a muscle in his jaw pulsing too—so maybe Joe was serious.
The first boom of fireworks filled the silence, and a tentative white sparkler exploded outside the big window. Disappointment bloomed in her chest; this could be their last Fourth of July out here, and now Mr. Dane’s balcony would already be occupied. She’d so wanted to watch from there, just once.
“Barb’ll come around,” Joe rasped. “And Mavis is right, the others’ll listen to—” A fresh round of coughing started. Mavis stepped over to help him sit up enough for a sip of water, but he waved her away, turning his head toward the window. Was he watching the fireworks? No—his eyes were closed.
“I guess I could call a town meeting,” James said, pressing his hands into his thighs to stand up. “But I sure wish you could take the lead on this, brother.”
Joe nodded, wiry gray hair scraping loud against starched pillowcase. “Me too, brother.” That last word was almost drowned out by the next boom, which startled a whine out of Gumbo.
“You really think this sit-in thing will work?” James asked.
Only one way to find out. That’s what Joe would’ve said next, if he had the strength. So as Mavis prepared her brother’s next dose, she repeated out loud for James: “Only one way to find out.”