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Christine’s eyes opened at the first sign of the glorious December morning. Sunlight streamed through the small crack in the drapes as Zach rustled around in the soft grey shadows. There was something about watching someone you love’s early-morning routine— something intimate about knowing in which order they showered, made coffee, brushed their teeth, and put on cologne, that Christine hadn’t reckoned for when she’d decided to link her life forever with Zach Walters. Always, love was about the little things. She wasn’t sure why this always seemed such a surprise to her. Perhaps the surprise, in and of itself, was a gift.
When Zach turned back to face her, he buttoned the tip-top of his shirt and gave her a fatigued yet still handsome smile. Christine spread her palm across her ballooning belly and breathed, “Good morning, baby.”
“That was quite a night,” Zach said as he stepped toward the bed and pressed a kiss upon her forehead. “I thought for sure we’d be parents by this morning.”
“Me too.” Exhaustion folded over her at the memory of the previous afternoon and evening as Lola and Susan had rushed her off to the hospital. She’d been a red-faced, anxious wreck, totally panicked and squeezing Lola’s fingers to a mashed pulp. Up at the hospital, she had learned that the contractions were simply Braxton Hicks, which were a practice round of pre-labor for her body and very normal, the doctor had explained. Eventually, she’d been sent home with a, “We’ll see you soon!” This had sounded far more sinister than they’d meant it to.
In truth, this “practice round” had escalated Christine’s worries in nearly every dimension. Childbirth hadn’t been a thing she’d ever envisioned herself to do. Now, it rushed toward her, promising searing pain, with potential complications, and an entirely new baby to care for— all in one fell swoop.
“We have a little bit of time, so I don’t want you to worry,” Zach said softly. “But I spoke with Susan, and we’ve decided that you should spend the next few days over at her place while I finish up everything at the Bistro. It’s just easier that way and she can keep an eye on you if anything happens.”
Christine groaned inwardly and dropped her head back against the pillow.
“The doctor said bedrest. Somebody has to be around to make that bedrest easier on you. You know, to fetch you Christmas cookies and fluff your pillows and...”
“I’m not a princess, Zach. I’m just pregnant.” Christine’s joke fell flat.
“I just want to make sure you’re well-taken-care-of,” Zach told her, his nostrils flared. “And unfortunately, I haven’t yet trained the cat to be able to do that.”
“That’s on you. You took all those cat training classes for a reason.” Christine grumbled the joke as Zach headed back toward the hallway. The familiar whistle of the kettle bellowed through the house.
Christine’s phone buzzed with a message from Lola.
LOLA: Taking Willa to her first emergency psychiatric appointment this morning.
LOLA: We’ll meet you back at Susan’s after?
CHRISTINE: Sounds like I’ll be a permanent fixture on the couch.
LOLA: Don’t worry, Mama. We’ll take good care of you.
A half-hour later, Zach helped Christine walk at a snail’s pace all the way to the minivan, where she slipped into the backseat and lay back with her knees bent toward the car ceiling. Zach buzzed through radio stations until he settled on a Christmas-only station, which currently played “Silent Night.”
As they drove across Oak Bluffs, Christine and Zach remained quiet, allowing the music to wash over them. Christine often wondered about Zach’s internal monologue during this strange, intimate, and terrifying time. After all, he’d already done the fatherhood thing, a time that had resulted in tragedy. His daughter had died in a horrible accident. Assuredly, he was even more frightened than Christine was, if only because he’d already felt the brevity of loss.
To his credit, Zach had worked diligently to ensure that he was mentally and emotionally prepared for this next round of fatherhood. He spoke of his previous child infrequently— hints here and there that he’d spent some time watching silly childhood movies or had lost a whole year of his life due to “sleepless nights.” It was a strange thing to know that your life partner had lived entire chapters prior to your union with them. Christine, too, had had her other chapters.
It was their choice to write this next one together.
When Christine and Zach reached the entry for the long driveway that snaked through the trees and led toward Susan’s cabin-like home, Zach announced that Lola had come from the opposite direction. Christine lifted a hand through the space between the front seats to wave. Lola beeped the horn gently.
Zach parked the van behind Lola and then pulled open the back door to assist Christine onto the gravel driveway.
“You remember Christine, don’t you, Willa?” This was Lola, whose voice seemed overly bright, as though she thought she could keep everything together with enough positivity.
“Oh, yes. Of course. Anna’s second daughter?” Willa sounded as though she had just awoken from a dream.
Christine stood on shaky legs with Zach’s hand stretched out across her back. She lent Willa a warm smile as Lola hustled back to help Zach guide Christine to the back door.
“Come on, you two,” Christine teased. “It’s not like I’ve forgotten how to walk.”
Willa headed up the little path that led to the back door. Kellan opened it just before she knocked, which resulted in Willa leaping back fearfully. Kellan blinked at her, confused, his coat on and his backpack strapped across his shoulders.
“Hi, Willa,” he said coaxingly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Willa strung her fingers through her hair, then stepped around the teenager and headed into the house like a frightened animal.
“Don’t mind her,” Lola told Kellan under her breath. “She’s just a bit all over the place right now. The doctor says it’s a psychotic episode. Her brain has made up a story about her reality and she’s currently a slave to it until the meds kick in.”
Kellan’s eyes widened as Christine, Lola, and Zach ambled past him. This was a whole lot more than a teenager wanted to deal with during the hour before first period.
Susan rushed out of the back door right then, waving a bright white piece of paper. “Kellan! You forgot your permission slip!”
Kellan hustled back, grabbed the paper, thanked his stepmother, and then rushed back out onto the main road. Seconds later, they heard the monstrous gasp of the school bus as it paused on the main road to pick him up.
“Look at you, Stepmom,” Christine teased as her smile blossomed.
Susan waved a hand to and fro. Christine knew that Susan had been rather fearful about Kellan’s decision to live with Scott and Susan rather than his mother in Boston. Kellan had seemed the antithesis of everything Susan had wanted to build in her “fresh start on the Vineyard.” In recent months, however, Kellan had become a marvelous pupil, a kind step-grandson for Wes, and a hilarious little cousin to Amanda and Audrey. He fit in ways Christine hadn’t fit until her early forties.
Susan and Amanda had created a cozy little ecosystem for Christine’s “bedrest” in the living room. The couch was stuffed with fluffed pillows and fuzzy blankets; a little basket alongside the couch was filled with some of Christine’s favorite healthy (and not-so-healthy) snacks; a glass of carbonated water with lemon awaited her. Zach eased Christine into place on the couch and then splayed a bright yellow blanket across her legs and stomach.
“Snug as a bug in a rug,” he said playfully.
Willa sat in the chair, kitty-corner to Christine. She seemed oddly listless as she chewed at the edge of a crunchy pretzel, her eyes glazed over. The previous afternoon, when Christine had been up at the hospital with Lola and Susan, Amanda and Wes had babysat Willa. According to Amanda, the three of them had sat in front of the television and watched DVD after DVD until Willa had admitted that she needed to sleep. Despite their history, Wes and Willa hadn’t wanted to say much to one another. Lola had suggested this was because Willa’s psychosis had confused her so much that she couldn’t connect the current Wes Sheridan with the previous version of him. As Wes was still exhausted, he hadn’t pushed it.
After Zach drove back to the Bistro, Wes, Amanda, and Baby Max arrived at Susan’s place with a large box of Frosted Delight donuts. Frosted Delights was a sinfully delicious bakery over in Edgartown, operated by Jennifer Conrad and her mother, Ariane. As Christine was a trained pastry chef, her palate was often a picky one when it came to baked goods. In her mind, miraculously, the Frosted Delights passed the test.
“There she is. My darling daughter,” Wes greeted Christine tenderly as his eyes welled with tears. “I thought for darn sure I’d have myself another grand baby last night.”
“Me too,” Christine returned. “Guess you’ll have to put up with just me a little bit longer.”
Amanda bounced Max playfully in her arms as Susan placed a maple-cream donut on a plate for Christine.
“Willa? Would you like a donut?” Christine asked gently.
“Willa, you must know this place,” Wes said. “Frosted Delights Bakery over in Edgartown.”
“That’s right. It’s a staple of the community.” Susan lifted a simple glazed donut to her lips. “It’s been around for decades.”
“Frosted Delights?” Willa batted her eyelashes. Her cheeks glowed bright pink, as though she was some kind of doll. “Yes. I think Anna used to bring me there.”
“I’m sure she did,” Wes affirmed. “Anna was a real sucker for donuts or anything sweet, for that matter. That woman had such a sweet tooth.”
Christine’s heart dropped into her stomach. This talk about Anna Sheridan felt like looking too long at the sun. Christine’s heart ached for a woman she’d never see again; she reckoned with the immensity of a loss that had occurred so long ago that she could hardly remember the sound of her voice.
“I need to take a nap,” Willa said suddenly. She rose from the chair with robotic motions, then turned herself back toward the guest room.
“We’ll save you a donut, Willa,” Lola told her. “Get some rest.”
The entire Sheridan clan kept their mouths closed tightly until the upstairs guest room door clipped shut. Wes stepped toward the cozy chair Willa had vacated and collapsed in it. His donut remained hardly touched on the china plate on his lap.
“What do you remember about Willa from those days?” Christine asked her father then.
Wes’s eyes closed to reveal the delicacy of his eyelids, which seemed as thin as a butterfly’s wing.
“She was such a sweet little thing when I first met her,” Wes breathed. “I think it was outside of the high school. She was maybe eight or nine and wanted to show off her cartwheels. At the time, I was a bit annoyed. Why did I have to sit around with my girlfriend and watch this little young thing whip around the grass? But Anna was overjoyed with everything she did. She would clap her hands wildly as though Willa was actually a gymnast in the Olympics or something. It was one of the first moments that I realized Anna would be a brilliant mother one day.”
Wes shook his head again as he lifted his donut. “It’s hard for me to align this current version of Willa with that little girl. How is it possible that they’re one and the same?”
“Do you have any idea of why she might have sought us out right now?” Lola asked. “Or any idea of where her psychosis might have come from?”
“Did her parents have any history of mental illness?” Susan asked.
Wes considered this for a moment as he blew the air out of his mouth, making his cheeks puff out. “Your mother wasn’t a big fan of her parents. She kept away from them as much as she could, especially after we officially moved in together. That all happened in a great rush. There was a fight with her mother. Things were said that they couldn’t come back from.”
Christine, Lola, and Susan exchanged glances. History and time seemed generational. In previous eras, they had thought that they would never speak to Wes Sheridan again. They’d rebounded from that pain and sorrow and separation, somehow. Thank goodness.
“Things were different back then,” Wes continued. “Mental illness wasn’t as talked about. Perhaps Anna’s mother was more than just a drunk. Back then, people just called her crazy. In any case, Anna’s mother threatened her time and again not to come around Willa’s school to check up on her. She told her to stay away. And then, she tried to use Willa as a kind of bait to get to see you, Susan, after you were born. Naturally, this enraged your mother. She was terribly protective, as all mothers are.”
The Sheridan family again held the silence as Wes’s story fell over them like a blanket of snow. It seemed incredible that these family secrets had remained lodged in the past for forty-five years.
“To answer your question, Lola, I haven’t a clue why she’s here,” Wes admitted. “Anna and I never heard from her after she left the island. Anna cried about it frequently in those early years but soon tucked that pain back behind other pains. That’s what you must do to survive, after all. Choose your damage. And we were so busy with you three girls and the Sunrise Cove and the Bistro and...” He shook his head as his eyes darkened.
“The doctor said that it might take her some time to understand where this psychosis came from...” Lola said finally.
“She’s really like a ghost,” Wes breathed. “When I first heard her voice on the phone at the Sunrise Cove, looking for me, I thought maybe I was having some kind of episode. It really took me out of myself. And now that she’s here, confused about what year it is— like me, sometimes, it’s like a version of time travel. Like in many ways, if we close our eyes and shift our perception just a little bit, the year is still 1980, and everyone we love and hold dear is still alive.”