Beachcombers. Part 29

"I'm not asking you to," Jim told her. "I just want you to love me the most. I just want you to be clear about it, that you're on my side."

Marina nodded. "I can do that. I want to do that. I want to be on your side, Jim." She moved toward him. "Actually, right now I'd kind of like to be on your--" leaning over, she whispered the word against his lips.

The house was unusually still. At the end of the hall, light bloomed from the kitchen. They walked through the house and found Abbie and Lily seated at the kitchen table, both obviously exhausted.

"What's going on?" Jim asked.

Abbie stared, without speaking, at the table.

Lily answered. "Abbie took Harry, the little boy she's been babysitting, to the fair. He fell off his carousel horse, hit his head, and scratched his face. It terrified both of them. She took him to the hospital--" Seeing the fear on her father's face, Lily hastily added, "Harry's okay. The doctor said he was okay. And he was normal all day, and now he's asleep and his mother is with him."

"Oh, Abbie." Marina put her hand on Abbie's shoulder. "How frightening for you. But he's okay, that's the important thing."

Abbie said, in a dull voice, "I know."

"Was his mother mean to you? Did she--"

Jim interrupted. "Marina, let's go out to your cottage and get that article we talked about."

Puzzled, Marina said, "What article?" Then she saw his face. "Oh. Right."

They went out the back door and walked in silence to Marina's cottage. Once inside, Marina turned to Jim. "Is there a problem? Did I do something wrong?"

"Marina--" Jim ran his hand through his hair and paced across the small s.p.a.ce, stopping at the other side of the room. "I've heard the girls talking. I'm pretty sure Abbie's having an affair with Harry's father. No one's asked my opinion, Abbie hasn't come to ask my advice, she hasn't confided in me, and she's an adult now, and G.o.d knows I've made my share of mistakes. But I don't like Abbie being involved with a married man."

"I see." Marina crossed the room and leaned against Jim, wrapping her arms around him. "Goodness. What a dramatic evening your women have given you. Aren't you exhausted?"

He nuzzled his chin on the top of her head. "I'd like to take you to bed right now. But I think we'd better wait until Emma comes home."

Marina paused. Part of her really wanted to join Emma when she got back, to tell Abbie about their adventure with the lights.h.i.+p baskets. Emma would be furious at Lily, but she would calm down. Marina could imagine all of them sitting around the kitchen table, laughing. She felt she had become part of their lives. It seemed only natural for her to be with them.

But really, it was Jim she wanted to be with, to belong to. He had asked her to choose between him and his daughters, and she understood the wisdom of that choice.

"Let's sneak in the front door and into the living room and see if the Red Sox game is still on," she suggested with a grin.

"Brilliant idea," Jim agreed. He put his arm around her shoulders and they walked together, companions, through the night to the front of the house.

42.

Abbie After Marina and their father left the kitchen, Abbie remained at the table, paralyzed by her emotions.

Lily bustled importantly around the kitchen. "Here, Abbie." She set a mug in front of Abbie. "Drink this."

"Not thirsty."

Abbie couldn't stop her mind from relentlessy replaying the events of the day: Harry dropping his seahorse, Abbie taking her hand from his back for just a moment, bending down, the tinkling music, the way the horses rose up and down and up and down, the terrible sound of Harry's head hitting the horse and his body hitting the wooden platform. Harry, limp in her arms.

But Harry was okay. He was fine. He had not been seriously hurt. That was the important thing.

But not the only thing. Harry had wanted his mommy. All day long, he had wanted his mommy.

Perhaps tomorrow Harry would ask to see Abbie. "Where's Nanny Abbie?" he would ask. Abbie's eyes welled with tears. But when he was hurt, when he was scared, he wanted his mommy.

The truly terrible thing was that deep in her deepest heart of hearts, Abbie's own feelings were hurt. She was jealous, jealous of Harry's need for his mommy, jealous of Sydney's irrevocable position in Harry's life, jealous of the way Sydney spoke with Howell tonight on the phone, jealous of the original basic triangle of mother/daddy/child. Her jealousy provoked a blizzard of questions and fears: What right had Abbie to think she could step into the middle of Harry's family? If she really loved Harry--and she did--then how could she even consider causing a divorce between the child's parents? She knew only too well how painful life could be when the normal family pattern was torn apart. The only logical, loving, right thing to do would be to step aside, away from Howell and Harry.

Near her, Lily continued to babble cheerfully, like some kind of bizarre nurse in her high heels and gorgeous silk dress. "Drink the tea, Abbie. You need it. And when did you eat last? Never mind. I'm making you some cinnamon toast."

Lily prepared the toast just the way the sisters loved it, bread slathered with b.u.t.ter and sugar and cinnamon and put under the broiler for a few seconds, until the sweet smell swirled through the kitchen and everything had melted into a luscious thick crunch. The toast was the smell of comfort, the taste of love, the warmth of healing.

When proudly Lily put the plate of toast in front of her, Abbie discovered she was actually hungry. She looked at the clock. Good grief, it was almost midnight. She took a bite of the toast, and flavor flooded her mouth.

"Thanks, Lily," she said. "And thank you for leaving a party to come help me."

Lily smiled. "You're welcome. I was glad to do it. Abbie--"

The front door slammed and Emma stormed into the kitchen. When she saw Lily, her eyes went wide.

Emma glared at Lily. "You little b.i.t.c.h. I can't believe what you did."

Lily's voice was suddenly small and high. "I'm sorry, Emma."

Abbie dropped her toast on her plate and looked from one sister to the other. "What--"

Emma shook her head. "Don't you dare go into your little girl routine, Lily. You're not any of that. You're not a little girl. You are a woman. A woman who makes decisions. And you decided to hurt me as much as you could--and why? What did I ever do to you?"

"I don't know," Lily said miserably.

Abbie asked, "What's going on?"

"Oh, you don't know?" When Emma turned to face Abbie, her freckles stood out on her skin as if they'd been drawn with black markers. "You haven't heard? Didn't Marina tell you that she and I were arrested because Lily called the police?"

"You were arrested? For what?" Abbie glanced from Emma to Lily, seeking an explanation.

"Marina and I planned to smuggle Mrs. Bracebridge's lights.h.i.+p baskets from her house tonight and take them to Sheila to be valued, because I was pretty sure some of the baskets had been stolen and replaced with new ones." Emma was spitting as she talked. "I wanted to be sure of this before telling Mrs. Bracebridge about it, or rather, Spencer, because I thought it was his mother who was doing it, and I didn't want to upset everyone if I was wrong. And Marina said she'd help me carry them, they're so bulky, and we called Sheila and agreed on a time to bring them over, and Marina and I went over there at nine tonight--and Lily called the f.u.c.king police to tell them there would be a theft at the Bracebridge house!"

Abbie gawked at Lily. "G.o.d, Lily. Why would you do that?"

Lily bit her lip and cringed.

Emma continued, "We were taken to the police station! We had to ride in the back of the police car with those scary doors that don't open from the inside. We had to drag Sheila into this, and Spencer and Dad. What kind of person calls the police on her sister?" Emma demanded. "Tell me, Lily. What the h.e.l.l were you thinking?"

"I don't know." Lily's chest heaved. "Maybe I was just jealous that you chose Marina instead of me. I never dreamed they'd arrest you. I only thought they'd give you a good scare. I didn't think it through." Lily's face was blotchy with emotion. "I am so sorry. I am so so sorry."

"Well, I'll never forgive you for this, Lily. I'll never trust you again in my life."

"Hey, Emma, come on." Abbie rose from the table, crossed the room, and put one arm around Lily, who was crying now. "Back off, Emma. Calm down. Come on. You're not in jail, are you?"

"Oh, nice, Abbie, side with her, protect your little baby sister. The little princess." Emma took a few steps away from Lily and stood for a moment catching her breath. After a long moment of silence, Emma confessed, "I was so frightened in that police car. I had a panic attack. It was awful. It's awful being trapped in a car and you can't get out; all I could think was what if there's an accident, I can't get out!"

"Oh, Em, I never meant for that to happen," Lily said. "I didn't think anything like that would happen."

"It was so mean of you, Lily," Emma said and now she was weeping. "Why would you do something so mean to me? You must hate me."

"But I don't hate you!" Lily protested.

"Well," Emma's voice was thick with emotion. "I hate you." She turned and left the room.

43.

Emma Emma had agreed to help Marcia with her landscaping business this weekend, and as she dragged herself out of bed at five-thirty Sat.u.r.day morning, she was glad. She hadn't slept well, and it was a relief to see the dawn, to leave her hot, tangled sheets. She wanted to get out of the house before either of her sisters woke. She was so mad at Lily it made her jaw clench until her teeth ached, and she wasn't pleased with Abbie, either.

She poured herself a gla.s.s of orange juice, slugged it back, and was ready at the curb when Marcia and Brian drove up in the green pickup truck. She squeezed into the cab next to Brian. Marcia was driving. The air was rich with the aroma of coffee and sugar, and to Emma's delight, Brian handed her a traveling mug filled with hot coffee and a bag of Downy Flake doughnuts.

"Thanks, guys," Emma said. "I need this."

"Well, I need you," Marcia said. "I can't believe Karen just took off like that. She'd promised she'd work for me through August. Instead, she left the island without giving me one day's notice."

"Not to mention," Brian added in his low rumbling voice, "everyone wants their gardens to look perfect, and we haven't had rain for a week, and no one considers that they might wander out and water their gardens all by themselves!"

Emma sipped her coffee, listening to Marcia's chatter, aware of Brian's low chuckle and also of how his muscular thigh pressed against hers. They were crowded in the cab; he couldn't help it. She didn't mind it, really, and he smelled good, like Ivory soap and Barbasol. Idly Emma wondered if brothers and sisters had less friction between them than sisters. Would Brian ever try to get his sister in trouble? She doubted it. He seemed like a pretty easygoing guy.

Their first stop was on Wolf Lane. Brian mowed the lawn while Marcia and Emma weeded and watered. The day was hot and humid, and an irritating gusty wind yanked plants from Emma's hands and slapped branches into her face. The humidity turned her hair into a giant ball of frizz, and when she tried to pull it back, her rubber band broke. Sweat washed away her sunblock and she knew her nose and shoulders were turning lobster red.

Really, she knew she was most angry at herself. In her own twisted, warped, pathetic way, she had allowed her attraction to Spencer Bracebridge to create some kind of bizarre and hopelessly doomed scenario. She'd imagined how she would discover that the lights.h.i.+p baskets were fake, and she'd tell Spencer, and he would be impressed by her acute perception and her deep concern for island historical artifacts and for his beloved grandmother ...

And what? What then? What had she imagined? She hadn't thought how horrified Spencer would be if it really was his own mother who was stealing the baskets. He might hate Emma for exposing his mother and putting them all in such a difficult position. Emma was only an employee--who did she think she was, to pry into the lives of such an important, respected island family?

At the next job, Brian trimmed the high privet hedge with electric trimmers while Marcia and Emma pulled out the annuals the owner was tired of and planted flowers in the colors the owner desired. Tearing healthy plants from the ground just seemed wrong, and it sent Emma's mood tumbling. She couldn't believe what Lily had done. She couldn't believe that Abbie had defended her. She couldn't believe that she'd thought Spencer Bracebridge would ever be interested in her, and her only consolation was that she'd never allowed her feelings for him to show, not to him, not to Millicent, not even to her sisters.

Her cell phone, tucked into the pocket of her cargo shorts, vibrated. She glanced at the caller ID. It was Millicent Bracebridge's home. Her heart leapt. Perhaps Spencer was calling-- "h.e.l.lo?"

"Is this Emma Fox?" It was Sandra Bracebridge's chilly voice.

Emma closed her eyes, as if against an oncoming train. "Yes."

"I'm calling to tell you you are relieved of your duties here. I don't want you to set foot in this house again, do you understand?"

Emma swallowed. "I understand, Mrs. Bracebridge. But I'd like to tell your mother-in-law good-bye."

"Did you not hear what I said? You are not to come into this house again. If you do, I'll phone the police and have you forcibly removed."

Emma snorted with surprise. What was it with everyone phoning the cops on her?

"I'll send your paycheck in the mail," Sandra Bracebridge concluded, and without saying good-bye, disconnected.

Emma squeezed the cell phone so hard she was surprised she didn't crush it. She wanted to throw it hard against a brick, but she stuck it back into her pocket and savagely attacked an azalea bush.

What was she doing on this island?

What was she even doing on this planet?

No one was choosing her! Marina had gone off with her father. Abbie had sided with Lily. Duncan had dumped her for Alicia, her Boston firm had fired her and kept other people, and now she'd lost her connection to Millicent Bracebridge and the island, not to mention Spencer, because she'd never had any real connection to him.

She was a total loser.

She could understand for the first time how her mother had done it, why she had done it. Sometimes it all got to be too much, and there was nothing hopeful in sight. Then how did a person go on?

44.

Lily Lily woke on Sat.u.r.day morning with misery sitting on her stomach like an elephant.

Last night after her sisters went to bed, Lily had phoned Jason to tell him she was sleeping at her house. She and Emma had had a fight, she'd told him. She'd explain it later.

She'd hoped that in the morning Emma would be less angry and more forgiving. She and Emma had fought before. A good night's sleep would calm her down.

But the house was empty. Her sisters had already left for work. Without making coffee.

Crankily, Lily brewed a pot of coffee and drank juice, considering the day before her. The Life Saving Museum fund-raiser, the last big event of the summer, was tonight. After this weekend, families began to pack up in preparation for returning home. The weather was still hot and sunny, but hurricanes were spinning near the southern states, threatening to spiral north, to loom overhead, darkening the sky and kicking up high winds that made the ferry and plane trips uncomfortable and sometimes even terrifying.

The sense of a long, idyllic summer was ending. Everyone's thoughts were turning to fall.

For Lily, it had all gone too fast. She felt she was only now hitting her stride, learning how to move among the truly wealthy as if she belonged there. The approaching storm, the flickering of the light as the winds batted the summer leaves, made her anxious about her future.

Low laughter drifted through the kitchen window. Lily leaned against the sink, curious.

Her father and Marina were walking away from the Playhouse. Her father's arm was around Marina's waist, a possessive and s.e.xual grasp. He was looking down at her, and she looked up at him, and they stopped right there in the middle of the yard where anyone could see them and kissed. Really kissed. A full-body press, movie-moment kiss.

Gross, Lily hissed. Yet she couldn't wrench her eyes away. Horrified, mesmerized, she watched as the couple walked on, leaning toward each other, to her father's truck.

Everyone liked Marina more than they liked her. It was a childish thought, but Lily couldn't ignore it. Eartha would be going back to New York any day now. Most of the parties were over. Was Marina going to go back to Missouri? Or would she stay here? And where did Lily belong?