Folly Cove (41 page)

He was right about her sisters, how it felt to be with them again: whole. But Elly's throat constricted as she imagined having to tell Ryder about Hans and her surgery, about the very real possibility that she might never be able to have children.

She pulled out of his embrace, shivering as she stood alone in the cold night air. “What are you saying, Ryder? That you feel that way about
us
? Or are you talking philosophy here about the whole human race?”

She saw the gleam of his teeth as Ryder smiled. Above them, the night sky was black except for a few pinpricks of light from the stars and a fingernail of moon.

“Both, I guess,” he answered. “Elly, why did you invite me here?”

“I didn't,” she said quickly. “My sister Laura did. And she was drunk. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here. I didn't plan on any of this. I didn't think you and I should be together.”

Ryder was silent long enough that she could hear one of the gulls on the roof chortling. She imagined the bird laughing at the silly
humans below.
All this discussion about whether to mate, when they should just get on with things and lay their eggs
.

“So you're saying that if it had been up to you, you never would have invited me to come,” he said at last, “and that we shouldn't be together.”

“Right.”

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. Well. That clears things up. I'd better get back to the pub.” He turned sharply away and started walking fast toward the bar.

“Ryder, wait!” Elly called, but his long strides had carried him too far across the lawn for him to hear her. Either that, or he was choosing to ignore her. Probably for the best, she told herself, since she had no idea what she'd say to Ryder anyway.

Then he was gone, the pub door opening to cast a square of yellow light on the grass and shutting again, leaving her alone in the cold and silent dark.

•   •   •

Laura had allowed herself to text Kennedy exactly once yesterday from the inn, while she was helping Rhonda navigate guest check-ins for the Sanderson wedding.

Several couples had complained about the noise from the bar and wanted to be moved, but the inn was full. Laura had provided noise-canceling fans and a 10 percent discount on the rooms. This had thrilled the guests, especially when Laura had called a friend with a restaurant in town and convinced her to give the couples a twenty-five percent discount on lunch after they checked out today.

Laura was afraid her mother would be angered by these decisions. Instead, Sarah had smiled at her and said, “You show great business sense, dear.”

That vote of confidence gave Laura the courage to text her daughter, who was staying at Jake's house in Medford for the first time that weekend, despite images of Kennedy having dinner with her husband and this unknown man, Anthony, and their little boy.

You okay? s
he'd texted.

Fine. Quit worrying!
Kennedy had replied. Laura could almost picture her daughter rolling her eyes as she thumbed the words.

Now it was the next morning. Laura knocked decisively on Elly's door after feeding the horses and turning them out, even though it wasn't quite nine. “Hey, I'm treating myself to breakfast at the Pancake House in Rowley. Do you and Ryder want to come?”

“No.” Elly's voice was muffled, as if she were lying with her head under a pillow. “Ryder's out with Sebastian, roaming the woods or whatever. I'm sleeping in. Headache.”

“All right,” Laura called back. “Feel better.”

In the car, she hesitated at the top of the driveway, then turned in the direction of the inn. Maybe Anne would come with her. The baby wasn't old enough for pancakes, but Laura had vivid memories of too-long Sunday mornings alone with Kennedy when she was small, when Jake would be out biking.

Or spending time with someone else.

No, she absolutely would not let herself think like that. Jake said Anthony was the first. She had to believe that if she was going to stay sane. Anyway, what did it matter now?

Anne was up and dressed; she'd already had breakfast and been out for a walk. Her auburn curls were tangled, as if she'd been tugging sweaters on and off all morning.

“Let me grab my coat,” she said at once when Laura invited her out.

“But you've already eaten. Are you sure?”

“Anything to get out of this house,” Anne said. “It's cold in here and Lucy's fussy.”

As Laura stood there, watching the baby make heroic efforts to roll from one side to the other on a blanket laid out on the floor, she realized that Anne was right: the cottage was freezing. Laura could smell the damp in here. She imagined streams of water running down the shingled walls, turning the wood green and slimy.

Anne had dressed the baby in a footed sleeper and a sweater; Lucy was probably warm. She looked happy enough, fat as a puppy. Still, Laura picked her up and held her close.

The baby grinned and tried to grab her hoop earrings with a little screech of delight. Laura took her earrings off and then burrowed her face in the baby's neck just to smell that familiar intoxicating cocktail of scents: baby shampoo, powder, milk.

“She's a little monkey,” Laura said when Anne returned. “Just like you were.”

Anne smiled, wrapping a scarf around her neck. “Do you actually remember me being a baby?”

“Remember you?” Laura laughed. “I couldn't get rid of you! I was always in charge of watching you. You clung to me like a barnacle. Even in elementary school, you used to run after me if our classes passed each other in the hall. You'd grab on to my leg, and the teachers had to pry you off me.”

“God. You must have been mortified.”

“Naturally. I was a very cool kid,” Laura said as Anne buckled Lucy into her car seat.

“You were,” Anne agreed. “I always thought you were a goddess.”

“You did not.”

“Seriously!” Anne said. “I was in awe of everything you did.”

“You shouldn't have been. I wasn't a very good big sister.”

“What do you mean? Laura, you were great to me,” Anne said. “Especially when Dad took off. Remember how you told me the next day? You helped Elly and me make a fort under the dining room table while Mom was upstairs, and you told me to get my favorite toys and bring them under there, because what you had to say might make me sad. You told Elly the same thing. She and I knew everything would be all right as long as you were still there, telling us what to do.” She laughed. “You were so bossy.”

“And jealous,” Laura said with a sigh. “Especially of you.”

“Of me? Why? Elly was the beautiful one.”

“Yes, but you were the one everyone wanted to spoil,” Laura said. “I'd get so angry whenever Flossie let you off the hook for something.”

“I don't blame you.” Anne patted Laura's thigh. “Mom always gave you too much responsibility.”

Laura nodded. “So what do you think Mom's going to do, now that Dad's dead?”

“Maybe she'll get married again.”

“God, really? I can't imagine her with anyone.”

“You didn't see her flirting with that guy at the pub? She left with him. Elly followed them to Mom's apartment, and he went inside with her!”

“No!”

“Yes!” Anne insisted. “Elly said she gave them ten minutes, and then she knocked on the door to check on them, but Mom wouldn't let her in!”

“Do we know who he is?”

“Yes. Elly asked Rhonda when she got back to the pub. Apparently he's Rhonda's uncle. He and Mom have had a few dates.”

“So not a serial killer, presumably.”

“Probably not. Anyway, I called Mom this morning to see how she was feeling, and she sounded fine.” Anne hesitated, then added, “There was music playing in the background. Some kind of jazz singer. At nine in the morning!”

“Oh, Jesus. Spare me the life where Mom's a hot single.”

Surprisingly, there was no wait at the Pancake House, even though they'd arrived at the post-church crunch time. Both of them ordered pancakes, eggs, and home fries. She and Laura talked about the wedding and the various kitchen crises that cropped up during the reception.

“You handled it all very well,” Laura said. “Everyone I talked to was pleased with the food.”

“Rodrigo handled it. He's my hero,” Anne said. “That guy is unbelievably organized, and he hardly ever yells, which gives everyone this incredible sense of calm and confidence.”

“So do you think you'll stay?”

“I don't know,” Anne said, frowning as Lucy started whining. She handed her some sort of tiny rag doll that Laura suspected Flossie must have made. It looked vaguely Buddhist: plump and beatific. Lucy managed to push it into her mouth, sucking with such intensity that both women laughed.

“Look, I've had an idea,” Laura said. “I don't think you should keep living in that cottage for the winter, and I know you don't want to
move in with Mom. What would you think about living with me for a while?”

Anne's eyes were shining, silver-blue with surprise, and her cheeks had gone pink. “Are you serious?”

Laura shrugged. “Why not? I could use the company. You'd be doing me a favor. And Kennedy would love having her cousin around. We could try it for the winter and see how it goes. I mean, the worst that happens is that we'll hate each other, right? And we already know we can survive that.”

“I never hated you! Did you really hate me?”

Laura thought about this. “If you'd asked me even a few weeks ago, I might have said yes. But when Flossie called and said you were missing that time you rode General, and I saw you all bloody and beat-up in the car after you fell off, I was worried sick. So, no. Not really. I was just scared about losing Jake. But it turns out I'd already lost him a long time ago.”

“I am sorry, Laura. About ever causing you to doubt me.”

“I know you are. And I'm even sorrier for doubting you.” Laura glanced at Lucy, who was peacefully teething on the spoon and watching everyone in the restaurant. The baby was the object of much admiration, with her wide blue eyes and red curls; people stopped by to comment on her looks, or on how good she was being, and Lucy always smiled up at them.

So happy and trusting, just as Anne had been. Anne grew up expecting people to love her, because everyone did. Meanwhile, Laura had been old enough to observe their mother's unhappiness and anger; their father's abrupt departure; their mother's leaving them for days or even weeks at a time and Flossie stepping in, short-tempered and harried.

“You know, when you told us Mom suffered mental breakdowns, I said I didn't remember any of that,” Laura said. “But I actually do.”

“Really? More than her just going away, you mean?”

Laura nodded. The noise in the restaurant, she knew, would prevent anyone from eavesdropping on the conversation. “When I was at school, sometimes I'd come home and find Mom screaming at you and Elly. I'd feed you and put you to bed so Mom could go back to work at
the inn. And there were lots of nights when I heard her sobbing in her bedroom. Sometimes she didn't even notice if Elly had a nightmare or you walked in your sleep.”

“Poor you, Laura. You must have felt like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Anne said, touching her hand. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Going through stuff like that as kids is what makes us who we are as adults, right?” Laura smiled. “Or maybe that's just my rationale, now that I'm putting Kennedy through a divorce. But I do feel sorry for Mom. She must have felt so isolated, if she deliberately cut ties with her own family and then found herself without a husband. It's like she was stuck on her own little island of misery.”

“An island of her own making,” Anne reminded her.

They paid the bill and went out to the car. Waiting for traffic to pass so she could pull out of the parking lot, Laura said, “So will you think about living with me?”

Anne turned to her and smiled. “I've already thought about it. The answer's yes.”

•   •   •

Sometime after eleven, Elly finally forced herself out of bed. Laura was still gone. It was raining. Not hard, just a light, uncertain patter on the windows that made the glass ripple green.

After an hour of television and too much coffee, she went out to the garage, looking for something to help her calm down. Finally she climbed onto Kennedy's mountain bike and pedaled down the road into Dogtown in search of Ryder and Sebastian. She had to see Ryder and explain that she hadn't meant things the way they'd sounded last night. She was glad he had cared enough about her to come here. He needed to know that before he left, even if they couldn't have a future together.

Over the next hour, Elly rode deeper into the woods, following the rutted trails that crisscrossed through Dogtown. Even this late in the season, the branches had enough leaves to make visibility difficult. The leaves had mostly turned russet and brown.

She rode as fast as she could, pedaling hard. The problem was that she couldn't remember where Sebastian was working. She'd just have to cover as many trails as she could.

If she didn't find Ryder here, she'd have to hurry back to Laura's to catch him. She had noticed this morning that his bag was neatly packed and that he'd slept downstairs on the sofa in the den. He must have come into the guest room they'd been sharing to get his things while she was asleep.

Ryder had been upset enough last night that he'd stayed on at the pub when Elly said she was going back to Laura's. “I don't understand,” she'd said. “Why are you so angry? I was just telling you the truth about Laura being the one to invite you here, and you already knew that.”

Ryder had sighed. “Elly, if you don't understand, it's probably better if I don't explain it.” Then he had turned away and started talking with a man standing next to him.