CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It was going to be a clear day, Anne thought, but right now morning mist lay across the calm green sea like gauze. Laura and Elly had driven to her house about nine thirty, after Laura finished getting Kennedy off to school and did her barn chores.

They’d had coffee and muffins—Anne made her favorite, banana nut muffins with chocolate chips, which Rodrigo still refused to see as appropriate for the inn—and now the three of them were walking up to Flossie’s house for what Elly called “The Be-All, End-All Mysterious Buddhist Meeting with the She Yoda.”

Elly led the way, her long legs carrying her across the rocky cove effortlessly, her blond hair bound in a messy bun, but with tendrils escaping across the collar of her blue jacket like some sort of sea creature.

Despite her shorter legs, Laura had no trouble keeping up with Elly. She still wore her jeans and riding boots; probably walking with Elly was easy for her because she was so accustomed to leading horses. Laura looked like she was finally sleeping better, though she’d confided over their coffee that this was the night she and Jake planned to tell Kennedy about their separation. She was worried about that.

Anne’s struggle to keep up with her sisters brought back her memories of their childhood games, when she was the one calling, “Wait for me!” She was breathing hard from the exertion.

Of course she had a handicap. Lucy rode on her hip, and Anne would swear the baby was a pound heavier than yesterday. She should have put Lucy in the backpack, but that was often difficult, now that Lucy had decided she hated the thing.

“It’s like trying to stuff a cat in a bread box,” Elly had said this morning. She’d offered to hold Lucy’s arms down to keep them from flailing, but in the end Anne decided to leave the backpack at home and carry her.

“Huh,” Elly said. “If you were our mother, you’d put her in a straitjacket to make her behave.”

Now, watching Elly hike freely, Anne thought about how having a baby had separated her forever from Colin, and for that matter, from anyone who hadn’t experienced motherhood. She was bound to Lucy in a way she’d never expected, her baby’s cries piercing her heart and causing her breasts to tingle. Her past inclination to take risks on surfboards and horses, on bicycles and in cars, with men and with jobs, was dampened now by her need to keep her child safe. She also knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.

They reached the bottom of Flossie’s steps and halted in silent mutual agreement. “Really, what do you suppose is so important that Aunt Flossie has to tell us all together?” Elly said, looking up at Flossie’s sea glass and driftwood mobile tinkling in the wind.

“Maybe she’s going to join another convent.” Laura glanced at Anne. “You could live here this winter if she does. It would be a lot warmer than the cottage.”

“Or maybe she’s in love and running away with him,” Elly said. “I saw some guy coming out of her house the other morning when I was visiting Mom.”

“Probably a yoga student,” Laura said.

“Not unless Flossie’s in the habit of kissing her students after practice,” Elly said.

“I don’t think Flossie would run off even if she was in love,” Anne said. “She doesn’t let love dictate her life the way we do ours. Anyway, she seems happy living alone.”

“That’s what I’m going to be like,” Elly declared. “Solitary and content.”

Laura and Anne hooted, which caused Flossie to appear on the porch above them. “Well, look what the tide brought in. Come inside before that baby catches cold. It’s raw out.”

Anne was the last one to enter the house. She handed Lucy to Flossie, who immediately put her head down so Lucy could grab at her short gray hair, giggling.

As Anne took her boots off on the porch to spare Flossie’s floors, she wondered when her aunt had started to worry about babies and cold weather. She could remember Flossie taking her down to the beach with her sisters even in snowstorms. Anne had loved it. There was something magical about the gray flannel clouds, the icy wet jewels on their faces, the waves thundering against the rocks while they built snowmen on the beach. They ornamented the snowmen with seashell buttons, necklaces of seaweed, and driftwood arms.

Once, she and her sisters had made a snow mermaid. Anne had cried when she melted; she’d loved seeing their mermaid lying on her voluptuous side, facing the open sea.

Flossie had passed the baby to Laura, who was dangling measuring spoons in front of her while Flossie made tea. Anne perched on a kitchen stool and glanced around at the crowded kitchen, interested, as always, in how other people cooked.

Copper pots and iron frying pans hung from hooks on a pegboard. Jars of spices, dried beans, and pasta were neatly arrayed on metal shelves, and a block of good knives stood next to the sink. Everything here was basic but functional, even the outdated gas stove and small white fridge.

It was the sort of kitchen you could cook in all your life and not miss anything, Anne thought with pleasure. There was nothing here like the unnecessary things some people were swayed to buy, like one-step corn kernelers, egg separators, pepper corers, or strawberry hullers.

“Let’s go into the living room, shall we?” Flossie said, sounding suddenly formal now that they were holding their tea. “We’ll be more comfortable there.”

When they were all settled—the three sisters in a row on the couch, Lucy on a quilt on the floor, lying on her back with fingers in her mouth, looking at the odd sight of them all above her—Flossie sat on the white armchair, closed her eyes, and took several deep, steadying breaths.

Flossie wore her usual workout clothes. Her face, despite its deep lines, was elegant and carved looking, Anne thought, the cheekbones prominent. It was easy to believe that men still found her compelling and sought out her company. Perhaps the fact that she preferred to live alone made her even more attractive to them.

As she continued her deep breathing, Flossie’s chest rose and fell, her jaw gradually relaxed, and the lines in her face eased a little. Anne half expected her to start chanting.

They waited silently for several minutes. Even Lucy was quiet. Anne was afraid to look at her sisters, because she knew they’d start laughing from nerves. She could see Elly’s knee jiggling from the corner of her eye and put a hand on it to make her stop.

Finally Flossie opened her eyes. To Anne’s shock, they glistened with tears. “I have some sad news to share,” she began.

Anne felt her heart pounding and folded her hands, clammy from nerves. Was Flossie ill?

No. She wouldn’t say that was “sad” news. Self-pity wasn’t her aunt’s style.

Flossie shifted her weight and pulled an envelope out of the pocket of her hooded black sweatshirt, then slid a letter out of the envelope and said, “I had hoped your mother would tell you this herself, or might join us here this morning. Since she has chosen to absent herself, the responsibility falls to me. Girls, your father has passed.”

“What are you saying?” This was Laura, sounding querulous with shock. “Dad’s dead?” She looked at the others. “Is this new news? I thought he probably died a long time ago, to be honest.”

“Me, too. How did you hear this, Aunt Flossie?” Elly said.

Flossie held up a hand to stop them. “I will tell you everything,” she said, “but I need to do it in my own way. Please remember this is my brother we’re discussing here. My little brother.” The tears that had been shining in her eyes were sliding down her cheeks, making her skin glisten, too. She pulled a tissue out of the box beside her and patted her face. “As your mother may have told you, Neil wrote to both of us from time to time,” she said then.

“Of course she didn’t tell us,” Elly said. “Mom never tells us anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Laura demanded.

“Well, our correspondence was very sporadic,” Flossie said. “Please don’t be too hard on your mother. Or on me. We really had no way of contacting your father. He lived on the street a good deal of the time.”

“Where was he?” Anne said.

“Different places, I think, but Florida at the end of his life. He’d finally gotten himself straightened out.”

“After only thirty years,” Laura said. “Gosh. Quite the overachiever.”

“This isn’t the time to say harsh things,” Flossie admonished gently.

“Don’t get me wrong. I loved Dad,” Laura said. “He was so supportive of me, and so much fun. I think that’s why it just about killed me when he left us. So I’m not really sure how I feel right now.”

Flossie nodded. “Of course. And I don’t blame you for being hurt. Neil never should have abandoned you girls the way he did, no matter how he felt about Folly Cove or your mother.”

“So why did he?” Elly said.

“Your father was an alcoholic,” Flossie said. “He wasn’t in his right mind half the time. He was also riddled by guilt, especially when he was sober. He tried to stay in touch with you girls, sending you letters and cards and the occasional gift. But then he stopped after a few years. Not to excuse his behavior, but I think it was easier for him to divorce himself completely from you, because it was so painful for him to think about how he let you down.”

“What do you mean? He never tried to stay in touch,” Laura said. “I sure never got any cards or gifts from Dad. Did you guys?”

Anne and Elly both shook their heads. “Mom probably kept them from us,” Elly said. “That would be like her.”

Then Anne remembered. “The dolls!” she said. “Remember those dolls we got the first Christmas after Dad left? They weren’t from Santa or Mom. There wasn’t any tag on them at all.”

“The ‘my twin lookalike’ dolls!” Laura exclaimed. “I’d forgotten all about those.”

“Yours had red hair, Anne, and mine was blond,” Elly said.

They’d discovered those dolls under the tree one Christmas, with no tags on the boxes. Even then Anne had known they were far more expensive than any gifts their mother or Flossie ever bought them. She’d been young enough to believe it was Santa’s doing; she’d cried when Laura said only babies believed in Santa.

She and her sisters had immediately started arguing about which doll was prettiest. It was a few hours before they noticed that Anne’s doll had the wrong eye color. She was crushed. But it made sense, if her father was the one who’d sent them, that he’d make a mistake like that.

“So Dad gave up on us,” Laura said. “Figures. He’s a man.”

“Now you sound like me,” Elly warned.

“Well, Bradford women don’t exactly have a great track record with men,” Laura said with a sniff. “We’re born fools for love.”

Anne was watching Flossie, who was staring at the letter in her hands. The letter had been folded and refolded so many times that it had multiple creases. “Is that a letter from Dad?”

Flossie nodded. “He wanted to come home, in the end. But then he was diagnosed with liver cancer. He didn’t want to show up and be a burden to me or your mother.”

“Yeah, because he knew Mom was pissed at him. She would probably have run him over with her car,” Laura said.

“I don’t know about that,” Flossie said. “Your parents still loved each other. I know you find that hard to believe, but it’s true.” She looked at them, one at a time, to emphasize her point. “Now let me read this to you. It’s from your father. He wanted me to do this.”

“Can’t we read it ourselves?” Anne asked. She didn’t want to cause Flossie more pain.

Flossie shook her head. “Neil wanted it done this way. He loved you all equally, and he felt I should deliver this to you all at the same time.”

“He could have written us separate letters,” Laura grumbled, but Flossie silenced her with a look.

Then Flossie began reading:

My dear girls,

You have grown up without me. That is both a cause for sorrow, because of how much I missed, and a reason to celebrate, because I’m sure you were better off with me gone. I had hoped not to go to my grave without seeing you again, but the Fates, as always, have a way of playing tricks on us pitiful humans. If your aunt is reading this letter to you, it means my clock has run out.

I am sure you are angry with me for leaving. That’s a good thing. Anger gives us strength. You were raised by your mother, so I’m certain you’ve all become very strong, independent women. But please don’t let anger interfere with your ability to love, because love is the greatest gift of all.

I want you to know that I’ve followed you from afar, at least online, whenever I have been able and well. In a perfect world, I could congratulate you myself for all of your accomplishments. In this very imperfect life of mine, I must settle for saying I am honored to have had any small part in putting the three of you on this planet to follow your passions. I hope you will celebrate your accomplishments, keep taking risks, and continue to follow your hearts.

Know that I am always with you in spirit and watching out for you from wherever this new path takes me.

With all my love,

Dad

“Jesus, Dad,” Laura said, sniffing. “When did you get so maudlin?”

“Dying has a way of doing that to you,” Flossie said, and tucked the letter back into its envelope.

Then she stood up and went to the hall closet, opened the door, and took a box off the shelf above the coatrack. Lucy started fussing, so Anne picked her up and held her so she could see what was going on.

Flossie carried the box back to the coffee table and set it carefully in front of them. Then she stepped back as if something might jump out of it.

It was an ordinary white Priority Mail Express box, the flat-rate kind available for free from any post office. Flossie’s address was scrawled on the front; the return address was Venice, Florida. It was an ordinary box in every way, except for several black strips of tape declaring CREMATED REMAINS in capital white letters.

Anne felt like doubling over from the shock. “Is that Dad?” she whispered. “Is he actually in there?” A bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to escape.

“Dad, come on outta there,” Elly said, also whispering. When her sisters glared at her, she said, “Sorry.”

“Seems like a waste of money to send it Express Mail,” Laura said. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere. How long have you had him in that closet, Flossie?”

All three of them started giggling. Flossie joined in, and even Lucy’s mouth was open wide in a grin.

Then, at nearly the same instant, the four women were weeping, shoulders shuddering, and Lucy sat in shocked silence, clinging to Anne’s sweater.

“I’m so sorry, Flossie,” Anne said finally. “It’s just such a shock.”

“Of course it is.” Flossie’s voice was brisk. “And you hardly knew your father.” She hesitated, then added, “There are things you don’t know about your mother, either. And, although she disagrees with this idea, I believe you should know the truth about her, because the truth concerns you, too.”

“Shouldn’t Mom be the one to tell us all this?” Laura said.

“Yeah, but you know she won’t,” Elly said. “Go on, Flossie.”

Laura stood up and began moving around the room, agitated. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea. I don’t know if I can take any more surprises today.” She glanced at the box on the table. “Aren’t we even going to open that box and see if Dad’s really in there?”

“He’s in there,” Flossie said. “Sit down, Laura. Just for a few more minutes. Then we’ll open the box if you like.”

“I don’t like anything about this day,” Laura grumbled. “I feel like I’ve fallen into a nest of bees.” But she sat as directed.

Elly leaned over and buzzed in her ear until Laura shoved her away.

“So what do you mean, you need to tell us the truth about Mom?” Anne said, speaking over her sisters.

“Well, I suppose the first thing you ought to know is that your mother’s childhood was very different from what she led you to believe,” Flossie said. “She didn’t grow up wealthy. She never had two parents. She didn’t even grow up in Back Bay.”

“What?” Laura said. “Where is she from, then?”

“Everett,” Flossie said.

“Everett?” Elly asked. “You mean, Everett Everett, like down by the airport?”

“Yes,” Flossie said.

“Wow,” Elly said. “So who were her parents?”

“She never really knew her father,” Flossie said. “She was raised by a single mother, very poor, in an apartment. She also isn’t turning sixty-five. She’s turning seventy-five.”

Laura frowned. “But that would make her thirty-five when I was born. And almost ten years older than Dad! Did he even know?”

“I don’t think so,” Flossie said. “But I don’t think he would have cared. She was beautiful at any age. Still is,” she added softly. “And you mustn’t be too hard on her. Your mother was fighting for her survival.”

“But how do you know all this?” Anne said. “Why would Mom tell you but not Dad? Or us?”

“I had my suspicions when I first met your mother that she wasn’t who she said she was,” Flossie said. “And then, years later, Sarah mentioned a sister when you had your appendix out, Laura. Your mother was nearly hysterical when you went to the hospital in an ambulance, because she remembered her sister nearly dying of an infection in the hospital after a surgery. So I got in touch with a friend of mine, a DA in Essex County. He helped me look into her background. Her mother was still alive when she married your father, but she’s gone now. Her sister is still alive, though. She lives in Revere. Her name is Joan.”

“We have another aunt, living just half an hour away?” Elly asked, her voice squeaking with surprise. She shook her head. “God. Mom’s a total impostor. I don’t understand any of this! Why was she lying all this time?”

“She was ashamed,” Flossie said. “She didn’t want anyone to know where she came from, because she was trying to bury her past. Believe me, she had reason to: it was an unhappy childhood in every way. Then, when she met your father, the thing your mother wanted more than anything was to be accepted as a Bradford. My parents never would have condoned the marriage if they’d known her real background.” She gave a short laugh. “Me, either, though I’m ashamed now to admit that.”

“That must be why the inn meant so much to Mom, right? More than it ever did to Dad,” Anne said slowly. “It was something stable.”

“That’s a pretty generous outlook,” Elly said. “The other way to look at things is that she’s a liar and a cheat.”

Flossie clapped her hands on her thighs and stood up. “Well, that’s probably enough news for one day. I’m sorry. There is a lot you girls will need to think about, and I’m sure you’ll have more questions. I really was hoping your mother would join us for this conversation, but in any case, I’m glad you know some of this. Now, how about a walk on the beach to clear our heads?”

“Wait,” Anne said. “We haven’t opened the box.”

“Do you really want to do that right now?” Laura demanded. “God, there’s probably an urn in there, packaged in Bubble Wrap and packing tape or something horrible.”

“Yeah,” Elly added in a mutter, “and we all know the ashes in that box could be from anybody. Or anything! Somebody’s dog, even. They probably sweep the ashes up together in the crematorium.”

“Stop it, Elly,” Anne said, casting a worried glance at Flossie.

Elly ignored her. “The bigger question is, what are we going to do with his ashes once we open that box?”

Oddly, Flossie was smiling a little, her eyes damp again. “I know the answer to that. Neil asked me to have you scatter his ashes here on the beach at Folly Cove. In his letter to me, he said he finally realized that, no matter how many years and miles separated him from the inn, this is still his home.”

“Well, we can’t do that right now,” Laura snapped. “Not without Mom. And there ought to be a service.”

“I didn’t mean now, dope,” Elly said. “God, Laura! Don’t you ever get tired of being so responsible and literal?”

“Shut up,” Laura said. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so irresponsible and bitchy?”

“Girls,” Flossie snapped. “Let’s walk down to the beach. You can take your time to decide about a service for your father. I’ll keep his ashes until then, all right?”

Still grumbling, Elly and Laura led the way down the path to the beach, followed by Flossie, dressed in a black wool watch cap pulled low over her dark eyes and a black pea coat. She looked like a miniature Navy SEAL. Anne followed them with Lucy, thinking of her father bringing them down to this very beach, even on days when the wind whipped the waves into a frenzy and the tips of their ears and noses turned instantly numb.

Her father had helped Anne and her sisters find enough sea glass at Folly Cove to fill a jar shaped like a heart.

He had once helped them make mouse costumes after taking them to see The Nutcracker in Boston.

Dad taught her to ride a bike, running beside her so she wouldn’t fall. Anne had been astonished, when she was six, that her father could run so fast. Could outrun a bicycle and catch her when she wobbled and started to tip over, bike and all!

And, in the mornings, if Anne came into the bathroom while he was shaving, he’d lift her up onto the sink counter so they could make beards and horns with the shaving cream.

Daddy used to make her laugh so hard, she’d get the hiccups.

He’d loved her. He’d loved them all.

Flossie turned around, saw that she was weeping, and took Anne’s arm as they descended the porch steps behind the others. “Are you all right?” she said.

“I think so,” Anne said. “What about you? Are you okay?”

Flossie turned her head away, looking out to sea. “I feel lost. And terribly sad. My brother and I loved each other and fought with each other the same way you and your sisters do. It’s a great gaping hole now, knowing he’s gone, even though I hadn’t seen him in years.”

“I know what you mean.” Anne tucked her arm into Flossie’s and they stood there for a moment, watching her sisters pick their way down the rocky path to the beach, Laura’s short hair feathering dark, Elly’s blond head tipped back as she laughed.

It was cold but sunny. The water was so blue that the rest of the landscape looked bleached of color. A white tugboat churned in the distance and a cloud of sandpipers rose from the water, then settled back onto the beach. The tide was out, leaving ridges of sand and mud, endless patterns upon patterns on the gold crescent beach.

She had come to this beach countless times with her father and sisters. Moments like this one had already passed. She was lucky to have had those times, and to be here again.

Anne looked down at the baby in her arms. Lucy was leaning outward, captivated by the sparkling water, reaching as if she could grasp the dancing waves. Anne vowed to remember this exact moment, with the warmth of her child in her arms as the sea stretched before them, an ocean of miracles, the shadow of her father beside her.

•   •   •

Back at the house, Laura slipped a pair of boots on over her jeans and walked down to the stable, pulling her jacket collar up against the breeze. It was midafternoon and the sun was already starting its descent. Autumn was winding its inexorable way toward winter.

She didn’t know how to feel about anything at the moment: not the change of season, her father’s death, or Flossie’s revelations about her mother, though she was perhaps the least surprised by those. Kennedy had said something to her once about her mother’s birthday, saying it wasn’t really the one they were celebrating, but Laura had ignored this and said, “Well, the point of a birthday is to celebrate a person, not an age, and Grandma has asked us to celebrate this special day in her honor. We need to respect her and do that.”

What complete bunk. Respect her mother? How could she when she didn’t even know her?

At the moment, all Laura felt was numb. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, especially in the face of what she had to do tonight, which was to tell her daughter that her own parents’ marriage was a lie, just like so many other things in Laura’s life.

A couple of boarders were exercising their horses in the ring, making use of it before Laura started teaching. She had only two lessons today. Both were late in the afternoon, thankfully, so she could concentrate on doing ordinary, solitary tasks like bringing hay down from the loft and filling water buckets right now, rather than have to speak with anyone.

She hoped the barn would work its usual magic on her raw mood and give her strength for what was to come tonight with Jake and Kennedy. Meanwhile, she would push aside all thoughts of her own parents until tomorrow. What could she do about any of it now?

Laura greeted the boarders, breathing in the pleasurable smells of hay, sweet molasses Omolene, and horse, rolling her shoulders a little. Maybe she should take a ride, too. The weather would probably clear soon, judging from the fast-moving clouds, and Kennedy wouldn’t be home until shortly before dinner, because Sandra was picking her up from school to take her to their house. Mysteriously, Kennedy had developed a friendship with Melanie, proving once again that a teen girl’s mind is a mysterious thing.

Only when Laura wandered into the barn did she see the stranger seated on the bench just inside the stable doors.

“Hello, Laura,” he said.

She stopped so suddenly that she breathed in a plume of sawdust kicked up by her boots. The man was in shadow, yet even in silhouette he was instantly recognizable to her, because she’d studied his photographs online so closely.

“Tom!” She put a hand to her mouth, her heart drumming hard. “What are you doing here?”

“The silence was killing me. I had to see you. I know this probably sounds silly, but I was worried about you when you cut things off like that.” He regarded her for another moment, then smiled. “You look good. I’m glad.”

“You, too,” Laura said, amazed she could form words when her mouth felt like it did in Jake’s dentist chair, when the hygienist stuck that rubber tube in her mouth and sucked everything dry.

And how could he say that? How could she look good, after the morning she’d had?

She banished those thoughts and focused on Tom. He looked nothing like the boy she’d known in high school. He’d grown from a skinny kid with lousy skin into a substantial man. Not fat, but tall and solid. He could have been a lumberjack or farmer, with his sturdy build and the way he seemed so at ease in a barn, surrounded by horses hanging their heads over the stall doors or passing them in the aisle, as one horse and rider did just then.

He was attractive, Laura decided: compelling to look at in the way a man is when he’s confident. He looked vaguely British, in his wax jacket and corduroy trousers. The look suited him.

“I’m sorry,” Tom said as the silence lengthened. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t want to intrude or make things awkward for you. I really did just stop by to make sure you’re okay.”

“You aren’t making things awkward!” Laura realized from the heat in her face that she was probably blushing, and not prettily, either. Probably more like she’d been lifting weights. “Nobody’s here.”

Tom glanced past her through the barn doors, where they could hear the riders talking as the third horse entered the ring.

Laura laughed. “I mean, nobody in my family. Kennedy’s with a friend.”

“Your daughter.” Tom smiled. “She looks a lot like you.”

From Facebook, Laura realized, Tom knew a lot about her life. At least about those things she chose to share. She posted victories and celebrations. Not the burned dinners or shouting matches over laundry strewn about Kennedy’s floor; not her worries over money or her resentment toward her mother; not the middle-of-the-day naps Laura took when she sometimes felt she couldn’t go on.

Tom knew only the profile she’d chosen to present to the world. He had no idea that Jake had left her, that she’d just heard about her father’s death, or that her mother had been lying to her all her life.

“Well. Guess I should be going,” he said.

At that Laura realized she’d said nothing to indicate how happy she was to see him; he must think she was unhinged.

She was, a little. But she was also glad: Tom was here, and he was real. He cared enough to make the effort to find her even after those silly photos, and she didn’t need to worry about what he thought about the way she looked. She’d shown him everything already. As in, everything.

This fact probably should have made her want to run and hide. Instead, as Laura met Tom’s warm gaze—his face was as lined as her own—she suddenly relaxed. She smiled, and he smiled back. It was as easy as that.

“Why don’t we go inside and I’ll make some coffee?” she said. “Do you have time? I have a lot to tell you.”

Tom’s smile widened into a grin. Now she remembered the boy he’d been, circling his bicycle around hers, talking excitedly about math and chemistry. The sort of boy who was curious to know everything about the world and what it was made of, down to the most basic elements.

“For you? I have all the time in the world,” he said, and followed her up to the house.